The End of the Road
by Lucrecia Christina
Summary: This is my view of the end of Supernatural. Dean feels pulled to investigate Vet Offices being broken into and mysterious dreams plague him. Destiny has a new path or does it?
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

Gifts are funny things. We give, we receive, we exchange, we re-gift, and in some cases, we de-gift.

Do you remember every gift you've received over the years? I sure don't. Do you still have any of the gifts you've been given over the years? Of course you do.

Knick-knacks and books fill our shelves, pictures and sconces line our walls. Collectibles collect dust and color our worlds, while sweaters and socks fill our laundry baskets.

Have you discovered a gift from years ago that evoked such strong memories that it brought tears to your eyes? Or changed your destiny?

This is where our story begins, after 20 years a long ago treasured gift was rediscovered and the memories that were brought forth had the strength to change the world.

Here let me show you:

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><p><strong>Lawrence, Kansas<strong>

**January 24, 1983**

"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday dear Dean. Happy Birthday to you."

A chorus of voices, both adult and child sang out loudly in the small white kitchen of the Winchester house.

Dean sat smiling, eyes wide with mischief as he chomped to blow out all 4 of the candles on his cowboy birthday cake. His eager green eyes moved to the mountain of gifts on the counter behind his daddy, the biggest daddy in the whole world.

Now it was a contest between the candles and the wrapping paper, which thing did he want to tear into first?

"Make a wish, sweety," his mommy, the most prettiest mommy in the whole world, whispered in his ear, tickling his ear.

Dean took in the deepest breath his little lungs could hold and blew it out, sounding like a giant raspberry. All 4 candles flickered and went out. Everyone cheered!

Mary, Dean's mommy, whisked the cake away and daddy started putting presents in front of him. Not caring who gave him what gift, Dean tore into the first present, then the next, the next, and on and on it went. Soon, Dean was surrounded by toy guns, cars, motorcycles, remote control trucks and helicopters, and mountains of wrapping paper.

Mommy served everyone cake and chocolate ice cream and when everyone was done eating, "Mommy, we're playin' now." Dean hopped down and went to run out of the kitchen.

Mommy grabbed him around his waist, "Hang on there, Sheriff Chocolate Face. Let me clean that mustache and beard you have first." She had a moist paper towel and wiped his face before he had time to protest. She grabbed him in a fierce hug, "Happy birthday honey."

Dean hugged her enormous belly, "Happy birthday, Sammy."

Mary and John laughed as they watched their son run out of the room, guns blazing at dinosaurs stampeding in the play room!

Soon parents started arriving to collect their children after a day full of sugar and play. Dean stood at the door saying bye's and thank you's with mommy standing beside him offering up gentle reminders.

"Did you have a good day, Dean?" Mommy asked.

"It was fun!" Dean ran off to his room and Mary watched him, a curious expression on her face that she replaced with a smile when John walked in the room.

He stroked the small of her back, "Did he call the baby Sammy?"

Mary laughed, "You just realized? He asked if he was having a brother or a sister and I told him it was a surprise. He wanted to know what the baby's name was. And I told him the baby didn't have one yet. He was pretty concerned that the baby wasn't named yet. The other night, he woke up scared, again, and when I went in his room he had my photo album. How'd he get that, John? Anyway, we sat and looked through the pictures and I explained that he was named after my mom and he said that the baby should be named, Sammy, after my dad, that it was only fair. I asked him what if he had a sister? He just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Oh well. The baby's name is Sammy." He went back to sleep after that."

John gave Mary a scratchy kiss on her cheek, "He asked to see the pictures. I didn't think he'd hurt it, Mar. Hmmm, Sam…Sammy…yeah, that could work. He's been waking up an awful lot lately. Do you think something's wrong with him?"

Mary gave him a tired smile, "No. I'm sure it's just a phase. Anyway, I think I've worked out something to make him feel safe enough where he won't have to yell out for one of us, every night," Mary gave her husband a playfully accusatory glance.

John gave Mary an affectionate pat on her butt and went to the kitchen to start cleaning up the remnants of the birthday festivities. She watched his back retreat and sighing deeply, turned, crossed to the hall closet and reached above her head to the shelf and grabbed the rectangular package she bought on impulse a few days before.

Dean was playing in his room in the middle of the floor. Army men lay strewn in precarious positions, so that Mary had to watch where she stepped. She sat on his bed and watched him, smiling.

"Hey, baby boy. Come sit next to me."

Dean rolled his green eyes, "Mooom, don't call me that in front of the guys."

Mary laughed, but said seriously, "Oh. Oh, sorry. I forgot. Uh…Dean, sir, would you sit next to me, please, sir."

Blowing a raspberry, Dean got up and plopped on the bed next to his mom. He leaned over her swollen belly and yelled, "Hey, Sammy!"

Mary laughed again, "Still sticking with Sammy, huh?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "That's what his name is."

Mary furrowed her brow, "The baby's a boy? How…how do you know, Dean?"

He shrugged his shoulders again, "He told me."

Mary's brow continued to knit in worry, but she brushed it off as best she could and pulled the gift out from behind her back, "I forgot about this one."

Dean took the gift and just as enthusiastically as the very first gift of the day, tore at the paper to get at the surprise inside.

"Whoa! Walka-Tonka's! Cool!"

Mary laughed, "Walkie-Talkie's honey. They are called Walkie-Talkie's." She opened the package and pulling batteries from the pocket of her maternity top, she placed two in each transmitter. "Now, I'm going to keep one by my side of the bed and you can keep yours under your pillow. Whenever you get scared Dean, any time you get scared, you press this button and call my name. I will always be here to keep you safe. As long as you have this no monsters will ever get you. Okay?"

Dean's brow knitted together as he inspected the transmitter in his small hand. He took a deep breath and looked up at his mother with a serious expression, "What about Sammy?"

Mary regarded Dean for a few seconds, "What…uh…what do you mean, 'What about Sammy?' honey?"

"Will these Wonka-Talkers keep Sammy safe from monsters too?"

"Walkie-Talkie's honey. Dean, as long as mommy's safe, Sammy's safe. Mommy won't let monsters get you or Sammy, okay, honey? Okay? Do you understand? Mommy will always keep you safe. I promise." Mary squeezed Dean's shoulders in a side hug and kissed the top of his head.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Okay." He slid the transmitter under his pillow and went back to his army men.

* * *

><p>This is where our story <em>truly<em> begins, with the locating that once treasured gift I previously mentioned, long forgotten due to the tragic events only a mere 10 months after this day; the last happy birthday in a little boy's memory.

Can a cheap plastic toy change the course of one person's destiny?

A whole family's destiny?

The world's destiny?

Excellent questions all.

The answers may just surprise you.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: At the present we are in the middle of Season 7 of Supernatural with something tragic having happened to both Castiel and Bobby. While we don't know officially what has happened to either, I am operating under the presumption that both are permanently incapacitated in one way or another. So, the boys are on their own.**

* * *

><p>Dean sat staring through tear filled eyes as his daddy packed his toys away. Why did mommy have to go away? She said…she said she'd always keep him and Sammy safe. If she's gone how can she keep us safe?<p>

Dean watched morosely as toy after toy was thrown into that big, ugly box. He moved into action when daddy picked up that one, he grabbed his daddy's hand, "No! That's mine! Mommy gave it to me for my birthday! IT'S MINE!"

John watched as Dean snatched the small black plastic box from his hand, "Dean!"

"No! Mommy said if…if…if I'm scared that…that I can use this and she'll hear me. Always. Mommy said she'd keep me and Sammy safe. Always! She promised! She promised!"

"Dean. Dean." Daddy's voice sounded different and far away. "Dean, wake up. Dean!"

Dean sat up, startled, grabbing his gun from underneath his pillow aiming it randomly into the non-descript hotel room he shared with Sam. It was Sam's voice in the dream, not daddy's – dad's – he amended his thoughts quickly, as if Sam could hear them.

Dean shook his head to bring himself out of the dream he'd been having. Though, he was trying to hold onto it, there was something important, something he'd forgotten, but what was it? He was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to hold onto the dream which was like trying to hold water in a sieve, but there was something, "Damn it!"

Sam was sitting on the other bed watching his older brother with concern, "You were…uh…talking…and…" he sighed, "crying, Dean. Asking for … ummm… mommy. Dean, was that a dream about mom?"

Dean's head snapped up, an angry expression took the place of confusion, "What? No. Nothing. Shut up!"

Dean clicked the safety catch back on his pistol and replaced it under his pillow. He stood up and stalked sulkily to the bathroom. Sam watched him, still concerned, but dropping the super – sensitive subject.

Dean, yelling from the bathroom, "What'd you find out?"

"Uh, Dean, I'd rather not shout the details to you while you're in the can. Boundaries, man!"

"Never stopped ya' before!"

Sam heard the shower turn on and knew he'd be waiting awhile for his brother to emerge. One thing about Dean, after a crappy night's sleep, Dean took an extra long shower, and apparently that dream, whatever it was, shook him enough to keep him in a crappy mood, even after the shower.

Forty - five minutes later Dean finally emerged from the steam filled bathroom and sank back on his bed, towel wrapped securely around his waist and scrubbing a second towel through his short brown hair, he looked at Sam, "So?"

"So, what?" Sam responded.

"Damn it, Sam. I'm really not in a mood. So, what did you find out?"

Sam stood and walked over to the small table that held his laptop, with a few quiet taps he pulled up the website where he'd found the information in question, "Dean, I'm not sure we should be doing this now. I mean with what happened with Cas and Bobby, and everything else, I think we need to take a break, not this…this small case, that might not even be a case. I mean, come on man."

Dean stopped in the middle of pulling his gray t-shirt over his head and slowly turned to regard Sam. He pulled his shirt on angrily, yanking it down over the waist of his jeans. Dean walked over to where Sam was sitting, that angry expression back in place, "Really? Oh, okay, genius. Cas is gone now so, yeah…and Bobby," Dean scrubbed his face, squeezing his eyes shut like he was trying to erase the memory,"Yeah… let's just move on!" Dean laughed sarcastically, "Yeah…yeah…yeah…let's just take a vacation to uh… the Grand Canyon…yeah…and…and…and forget what happened! I don't know about you, but I could really go for some dry fuckin' heat and, I don't know, deep fried cactus! I've done a lot of things, Sammy, at the not so right times, but I'll be damned if we're taking a break now…not now. Sam, not now. So, yeah, we're going to work this "non-case" and hopefully, along the way, we come up with a better plan for us…our lives…whatever. Is that all right with you?"

Sam sat back in the plastic chair, creaking under his weight, he held up his hands in surrender, "All right. All right. This is what I found out." He turned the laptop to face Dean, "Three offices have been broken into. Vets offices and all outside of Lansing, Michigan. Why you might think it's a case is beyond me though, Dean. Would you mind sharing?"

Dean threw himself down in the other plastic chair, and grabbed a bag of stale chips to munch on, making a face at the chips he threw them back on the table, "Sammy, fill me in on the way to the first office. Vets offices like…like war vets or animal doctors?"

The truth was Dean didn't know why this was a case. He felt pulled toward the location as soon as he'd read the first article. Not pulled though, no...he felt an impending urgency to get there. He had to...to...to what? Fuck, he didn't know!

Sam laughed, "Animal doctors, man." He furrowed his brow as he watched his brother stand and head over to the unmade bed and start packing his rucksack. He crammed clothes, dirty and clean, in the sack, haphazardly and without much care. Conversely, he moved around the room collecting hidden weapons from various nooks and crannies and laid them gingerly on the bed, checking for imperfections or anything that might cause a malfunction.

When he finished loading his jacket and pants with his normal arsenal of weapons he peaked around at Sam who was still watching Dean with that same worried expression, "What are you waiting on? Let's go, Sam."

"Dean," Sam started.

Sighing resignedly, Dean turned to face his younger brother, he used his forefinger and thumb to pinch the bridge of his nose, "Flames, all right? All I remember is flames. Now, can we move on and get a move on?"

Sam closed his laptop and packed that in a it's own special case, then moved around the room grabbing his own weapons from hiding places not all ready used by Dean. In sharp contrast to his brother's haphazard manner of packing, Sam was quite meticulous, folding each garment and tucking it just so in his pack. In his opinion it was much easier to find things in a hurry.

Once finished with clearing the room, each brother took another once over of the room checking and then rechecking, wiping all surfaces of fingerprints as they went. It wouldn't do to leave even the smallest weapon, hex bag, or amulet behind. Those things tended to raise more questions than the illegal credit cards and fake ID's.

* * *

><p>"Sam, that sign just said, Lansing 120 miles! I thought you said, 'just outside Lansing'. A hundred miles doesn't equal 'just outside'!" Dean's mood had not improved since leaving the hotel.<p>

They hadn't stopped to eat yet, and Sam figured he was cranky due to low blood sugar. Well, besides the specter of Dean's nightmare hanging between them in the front seat of the Impala. Sam acted satisfied over Dean's explanation of, "Flames," but Sam knew there was more to it, but decided against pushing the issue, instead, Sam resorted to the old stand-by, feeding Dean's hunting mania, "Three vet's offices robbed in the last six weeks. All OUTSIDE Lansing. That's what the article says Dean. The last office broken into was here in Omer. Ummm… 'Veterinarian Kate Alexander stated that nothing was taken, all animals on premises seemed fine, but the doctor would be doing a full exam of each of the 22 cats, dogs, and other small animals bordered at her clinic, over the next few days.' Like I said, man, no case."

Dean slammed the steering wheel, "Damn it, Sam! There's just something, off, don't you think?"

"Yeah, you're blood sugar. Pull in here and let's eat. Then we can go talk to the vet. All right? Dean? All. Right?" Sam said commiserating to his brother's crappy mood.

Dean's reply was to pull the Impala into the open gravel driveway of the Eat Inn Diner. He slammed the gear shift into park, "I just want to check on these break-ins, all right, Sam?"

It was the closest thing to an apology that Dean was going to offer up, so Sam just shrugged his shoulders, "Whatever, man. I'm starving. Hopefully, they have egg white omelets in this place," taking in the ancient diner car doubtfully.

"You're starving and craving an egg white omelet? Dude," Dean rolled his eyes as he slid into the nearest empty booth.

A young and very pretty waitress had small glasses of ice water down in front of them before either of them could fully review the menus. Ivy, as her name tag announced, had boy cut short red hair, big doe like brown eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which Dean found quite alluring, "Hey boys, what can I getcha'?" Her voice was deep and wispy, with a soft hum, almost like she was singing her phrases.

Frozen in time taking in her appearance and the sound of her voice, Dean cleared his throat, "Uh, I'll take 2 eggs-fried, bacon, homefries – the works, short stack pancakes, sourdough toast, don't skimp on the butter. Bring jelly for the toast if you don't mind, and coffee, lots and lots of coffee." He winked and smiled at Ivy.

She turned her attention to Sam, who was staring open mouthed at Dean, whose ordering and eating habits never failed to astound him, "Any chance for an egg white omelet?"

"Yeah, no problem, hon. That all for ya'?"

A little shocked that this ramshackle diner in the middle of nowhere would have anything remotely healthy, he said, "Really? Oh. Cool. Yeah…how about turkey bacon, whole wheat toast, and orange juice. Coffee will work for me, too."

"All right. I'm Ivy, guys, if you need anything, just shout!"

She walked away with no extra sway in her small hips, but Dean watched appreciatively as she walked back to the kitchen to place their orders.

Sam rolled his eyes. He sat back in the booth and shook his head thinking of all the times a hunt was put on hold in order for his brother to satiate his other undaunting need. Not that Sam was a prude, not by any measure of the word, but he did have some sense of propriety, appropriate times and places… well, for the most part. A smile crawled across his face as he remembered an inappropriate time and place with Dr. Cara Roberts. He laughed out loud, licking his lips and closing his eyes, allowing flashes of that day to permeate his brain.

It was Dean's turn to stare open mouthed at his brother, "Sammy you all right? Havin' a seizure or somethin'?"

Saved by having to answer, little Ivy returned with plates upon plates stacked up her small arms. She lay everything down in front of them, then, "I'll be right back with the rest and your coffee."

Without hesitation, Dean dug into the pancakes, "Ya' know Sammy," he pulled the fork off the plate of pancakes and regarded them with reverence, "these are awesome. These taste like…familiar…these pancakes…" Flashes of the dream came to him as a sheen of sweat formed on his forehead, then something else, something he was supposed to remember but couldn't hold on to, no, not hold on to, he couldn't find, he had to find … then his eyes rolled in his head. His body had grown stiff his arms thrown forward in the throes of the seizure that had claimed his body.

Sam moved swiftly out of his side of the booth and pulled his brother onto the floor, rolling him onto his side, "Dean! What the hell? Ivy. Ivy! Call 9-1-1! NOW!" Sam could only watch, helpless, as the seizure continued to roll through his brother's body.


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Johnny Caldwell paced impatiently in the basement of his parent's house. The basement doubled, tripled, well, quadrupled as his bedroom, rec room, laundry room, and storage area, so there wasn't a whole lot of room to pace, but Johnny managed it. He chewed on the skin around his right thumb until the skin underneath was raw and bleeding. He was sweating and near tears.

He looked at the clock. How long had his brother been gone? Two or three hours? Was it longer than that or had it only been a few minutes? God! Why couldn't he remember? And why wouldn't his brother hurry up?

Johnny stopped in the middle of the little room and cocked his head to the side. He heard a car pull in the driveway and then a door slam, Jimmy was back!

Yes! About time too! Just in time!

Johnny was clutching his stomach with his left arm and continuing the gnawing on his right thumb. He realized he was jumping in anticipation. His brain was screaming for Jimmy, well more for what Jimmy was bringing him. Jimmy. Jimmy. Jimmy!

As if in answer to the silent screams, Johnny's brother's form filled the basement door. Jimmy was older than Johnny by 21months and larger than him by about 75 pounds, taller than him by six inches or more. Johnny was referred to as the runt of the litter, a litter of two, but a runt nonetheless.

The only thing Johnny had that Jimmy didn't, an addiction; though it was Jimmy's fault for Johnny's addiction to animal tranquilizers. Jimmy had been working at the local vet's office for the past few months as a kennel cleaner when his entrepreneurial skills kicked in. He had dabbled in dealing drugs in the past, mostly pot and ecstasy, but nothing that would get him into too much trouble if pinched by the five-oh.

The narcotics at the vet's opened up a whole new realm of possibilities, but first he had to test them out on his favorite guinea pig, Johnny.

Jimmy knew that his younger brother idolized him so it didn't take much to convince him to smoke this, snort that, or shoot up. He never really thought about the end result with all the drugs he gave his brother and he didn't care about it one way or another when it did cross his mind.

Right now, though, as he threw himself on the threadbare couch, his brother's mewling sounds and spastic pacing were all ready starting to freak him out.

"Bro, chill out, for christ's, man, seriously."

"Jimmy, come on. I need it. Please. Please." The second please he'd sobbed on his knees before his brother.

Jimmy sneered down at his brother, "Sorry, man. I couldn't grab anything…" Johnny's scream interrupted his brother's explanation. Jimmy had to speak over top of his brother's sobbing, crumpled form, "Dude! If you'd let me finish, for christ's, man, seriously. I couldn't grab anything, except for this," he pulled out a small vial of light amber liquid. There was no label on it to identify what the substance was, but Johnny grabbed it out of his brother's hand and… and what?

"What…what…I mean, how do I do this? Should I drink it or shoot it?" Johnny was panting, his eyes wide and popping. He had red rings around his hazel eyes and was covered in a sheen of greasy sweat, desperate tears rolling down his gaunt cheeks.

Jimmy just sat back shrugging his shoulders, not really caring except to shut his junky brother up, he grabbed the remote and changed the station to VH1-Classic. He turned the volume up as Alice In Chains video for "Over Now" was playing. He had a vague perception of his brother grabbing an H rig from behind the washer and scrambling for the bathroom.

Rolling his eyes and sighing Jimmy crossed his right ankle over his left knee and let his foot do the rocking to the music. Something crawled across the back of his neck, swatting at it, he growled, "Fucking spiders."

A shiver crawled over his skin, not the kind of shiver that was caused by a pee shiver or a cold chill or even the thought of a giant eight legged hairy monstrosity crawling across his bare skin. No, the shiver, this shiver reminded him of his grandmother.

Jimm remembered Gram Cees on more than one occasion getting a chill and saying it felt like someone had just walked across her grave. Jimmy hadn't understood that saying until now. He looked around expecting to see, something or someone, but nothing and no one was behind him, nothing and no one was waiting to say, "Boo!"

"For christ's, man, seriously. I'm gettin' as paranoid as John-Boy in there." He said out loud to himself.

That grave creepin' shiver returned.

It felt like chilled grease crawling its way up his legs, over his thighs, grew to a swelling and moved its way through his abdomen, squeezing his stomach. It slithered over his chest and finally, that shiver, that cold, creepy feeling landed on his neck settling there, choking him. The tickle on the back of his neck returned.

Then a whisper in his ear made him jump out of his skin, "Thief!"

He jumped up and away from the couch facing the opposite direction, trying to wipe the fear off him, "What? Who's there? Budgie man, that you prankin' me or what?" Jimmy spun around as the tickling on his neck was back and another whisper, "Defiler!"

He swatted at the invisible whisperer, "Enough. All right? Enough!" His breathing was heavy and sweat was trickling down the side of his face, he drew his bottom lip in between his teeth, biting hard enough to draw blood.

Jimmy stood in the middle of the basement crouched with his arms out like he was balancing on a tightrope. His eyes were moving in his skull, wide with fright, scanning the room. Whatever had happened seemed to have come to an abrupt halt.

Feeling stupid, Jimmy stood to his full height then moved cautiously back to the sofa. Whipping his head this way and that looking for the invisible spook and finally satisfied that his imagination had just gotten the better of him he turned back to the videos. He leaned forward squinting at the TV, aiming the remote and depressing the volume until it was on its loudest level.

Panic rose in him like a toilet over-flowing. He'd gone deaf! He tried yelling for his brother, Johnny, but realized his voice, even though he couldn't hear it, was gone!

Deaf!

Mute!

The air in the basement had become stagnant, suffocating!

What was going on?

Jimmy tried to stand but the bones in his legs had been replaced with rubber bands and he crumpled to the cement floor in a heap of arms and legs. His face took the brunt of the fall and Jimmy felt a warm liquid trickle out from his nose and slide down into his mouth.

With a clarity rivaling the images on the TV, visions flashed in his head. Images of a conversation he'd had and a promise he'd made, and broken. _No. No. No._ Jimmy sobbed silently as the voice bellowed, "Liar!" _I'm sorry_, he thought. _I didn't know. I didn't know._

Jimmy shook his head from side to side as he lay on the cement floor of the basement, the TV so loud the neighbors would probably call the cops. A glimmer of hope for his life flitted through him. Yes! Please, nosy neighbor Mrs. Goodwin, call the cops, Jimmy sobbed in his head.

"UNWORTHY!" A voice that was no longer a whisper reverberated off the basement walls and Jimmy knew, without a doubt, he was screwed!

If Jimmy Caldwell could have screamed it surely would have been now as a blinding white light pierced his retinas and scrambled his brain. His insides boiled while his outside convulsed in painful spasms as thousands of volts of electricity pounded through his nervous system. The last thing he remembered was losing his bladder and thinking that his mother would be pissed at the mess, then, nothing.

Jimmy Caldwell was gone, literally. His 20 year old body turned to ash on the granite gray basement floor.

A mere moment later, Johnny came bounding out of the bathroom, "Hey, bro! I feel great! Thanks! Whatever that crap was, or is, I feel… bro? Jimmy? Where'dja go?" Johnny spun around on his heels looking around the gray basement for his brother. Shrugging his shoulders thinking his brother had left to go his friend Budgie's, Johnny walked over to the couch and grabbed the remote to turn the volume on the TV down before that old Mrs. Goodwin called the cops about the noise. Johnny noticed the smudge of ash and water on the floor turning to a weird kind of mud, "Great. Leave me to clean up your mess, bro! Mom's gonna be pissed!"

Godsmack's "Straight Out Of Line" was pounding out of the speakers of the TV as Johnny grabbed a mop and bucket to clean up the remains that his brother left behind.

* * *

><p>Dean was hanging in the periphery of a dream, or maybe it was a memory. All he knew was that he was on the outside looking in at himself as a 4 year old bouncing off the walls in the kitchen of the house in Lawrence.<p>

"Mom, momma, mommy. When's daddy gonna be here? I left my waka-waka in Aunt Paula. When? When? WHEN?" Dean yelled the last word and laughed when his mother sprayed him with the water hose from the kitchen sink.

"Impala, sweety. The car daddy drives is an Impala," Mary laughed at the way Dean turned a phrase, 'left my waka-waka in Aunt Paula'. Though she thought it was terribly cute to call the car Aunt Paula, it did seem like a family member after all and John referred to the car as "She" and "Old Girl" often.

The rumble of a car engine heard in the distance sent Dean into paroxysms of joy, "He's home, home, home!"

Before Mary could stop him, Dean tore from the kitchen and out the front door to greet his father home from work, but as he ran outside the scene changed and the Dean that was watching was sucked through the void and was at the door ready to greet his father. When he opened the front door it wasn't onto the porch into a summer's day, it was into an outside full of swirling white fog or clouds maybe?

A disembodied voice spoke, "You must go to the land of the savages, Dean. Find what has been given and has since been hidden. Only the righteous man can right what went wrong. Find it and you will be able to right what went wrong. Find it, Dean. Dean. Dean!"

The voice echoed in Dean's head, but it was Sam's voice, again, that pulled him from the dream or out of unconsciousness, or whatever it was. But, damn it, he was supposed to find something…what? Damn it!

Dean opened his eyes to a stark white room with three beds across from where he was lying and one to the right. His head was throbbing and hurt worse than any hangover he'd ever had, and that was saying something.

Sam was sitting by his bedside, dèjá vous all over again, Dean thought.

"Hey Sammy," his voice was deeper than usual and gravelly, "What the hell happened? And where am I? How long was I out of it?"

Sam pinched the bridge of his nose then ran his hand down his face, worry and exhaustion distorted his features, "Omer Medical Clinic. You, uh, you had some sort of seizure. The doc's been running tests all night, man. You've been out since yesterday morning. They think it was either some weirdo fast acting food poisoning or an allergic reaction."

Dean's green eyes grew wide with panic, he started grabbing at the EKG leads on his chest, "I don't have allergies, Sam. Get me outta this bed. Come on, get this crap outta me. I'm not going to sit here and be a pin cushion for some backwoods medicine man, Sam. If you don't help me you're gonna get an eyeful of a whole lot you never wanted to see," Dean sat forward, almost immediately regretting the quick movement, his head was heavier than he anticipated and the movement made his stomach do a series of somersaults that he was sure would have won the gold medal at the Olympics.

"He is right about one thing," a nasally male voice startled Sam to a standing, protective position. His large frame guarding Dean's incapacitated body from the intruder, "he doesn't seem to have any allergies we can find. And as far as the food poisoning that doesn't seem to be an issue either. I've eaten several times at that diner and find the food to be…exquisite."

Dr. Gerald Quinn, as his laminate stated, was no more than 5'6" with only a small patch of hair hanging on for dear life at the front of his otherwise bald scalp. His horn rimmed glasses fit right up against his over-large watery brown eyes. Then Sam thought, maybe they were over-large due to the magnification of the prescription of the lenses.

The doctor approached the bed and Sam remained in his defensive stance, tracking the doctor's movements, "Mr. Frehley," Dr. Quinn addressed Dean, "we'd really like you to remain, at least one more night, to see if this was just a transient episode or if there is an underlying, chronic condition that is just manifesting itself now, which is rare, but not uncommon." The doctor said all that in one long breath.

"Well, I've all ready wasted one night here and nothing else happened, right? So, I'm not staying here one more minute, Dr. Spock, you can take your Vulcan mind games and stick 'em where the probe always seems to go! Sam, you gonna help me or what?"

"Mr. Spock," Sam said, correcting Dean.

Dean narrowed his expression at Sam, "What?"

"Mr. Spock was the Vulcan on Star Trek. Dr. Spock wrote the book about childcare." Sam ended quietly at the dangerous look Dean was shooting him.

"Really, Sam?" Dean rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the doctor, "All right, doc, what's wrong with me then? No allergies, no food poisoning, then what? If you can't give me an answer right now then I'm leaving right now." Dean always found it easier to bully the medical staff then to deal with whatever may be going on inside his body. Broken bones and lacerations were minor details that could be easily remedied, but the internal organ issues were too nerve wracking to keep in the front of his brain; especially after the heart failure several years before due to electrocution.

The weird dreams of late and now this seizure thing had him so on edge he was biting a hole through his bottom lip. Yet he couldn't verbalize his stress to Sam, there was just too much on their plates right now as it was and this brief derailment just had to be shelved until later.

Much later.

The doctor sighed and shrugged narrow shoulders, "I can not give you a clear answer, Mr. Frehley, all your blood work is within normal limits. However, if you insist on this course of action, I'll get your discharge papers ready. I just want it stated that this is against medical advice and as we do not know what caused your seizure you may be at risk for another."

Intentionally ignoring the doctor's presence, Dean responded, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Clothes, Sam, now!"

Sam shot Dean an exasperated, yet commiserating look but grabbed his pants anyway and tossed them to the bed as the doctor sighed and shuffled out of the room, "Look, Dean, maybe you should take it easy, like the doc said. I mean… what did happen, man? That was, weird, to say the least."

"This is not up for debate, Sam" Dean ripped the nasal cannula from his nostrils and threw it off the bed and pulled the IV out of his arm as the nurse walked in. She clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes, then turned to leave the room, but turned back around and grabbed a bandage out of the pocket of her baby blue scrub top. She ripped the bandage open and placed it roughly on the seeping wound Dean had just created, giving the area a hard slap, making Dean yelp, she said, "Scooby-Doo for the big boy!" She spun on her heel and left as quickly as she came in.

Rubbing his arm where the little blonde nurse slapped him, "She was cute, eh, Sammy?" Dean joked as he struggled into his pants, "Wanna give me a hand here? And, and throw me my shirt! Sam…Sam, come on, hop to!"

Against his better judgement, Sam tossed Dean his t-shirt and button up, holding his hands up in protest, "So not going there, man! Pants are all you dude." When Dean was finally dressed, Sam helped him slide off the bed, and allowed Dean to lean his full weight on him to steady himself.

Once Dean got his land legs he gave Sam a push, "I got it, man. I said I got it!" He shuffled out through the small medical clinic noting that it wasn't actually a hospital but a large doctor's office. The facility was laid out like a ranch style house. There were three exam rooms, a nurse's station, a lobby with no patients, and not much else.

The automatic doors slid open silently onto a dewy morning, sun shining brightly against an azure blue sky. Dean squinted his eyes at the sunlight intrusion into his throbbing retinas as he headed for the driver's side of the Impala. Sam grabbed him by the shoulder, "Uh, no way am I letting you drive. I have no plans on getting wrapped around the nearest telephone pole if you have another seizure."

Dean plastered an annoyed expression on his face, but threw the keys at Sam, "Whatever."

Sam settled Dean in on the passenger side, with much struggling and swearing from Dean to leave him alone. Sam slammed the door on Dean's next cuss word and ran to the driver's side.

Sliding behind the steering wheel, Sam was wondering if he should mention Dean's mutterings while he was incapacitated in that hospital room. Echoing in his head, Sam could hear Dean's semi-conscious words, "Find it and you will be able to right what went wrong."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

After leaving the clinic, Sam had planned on taking Dean back to the hotel and then finding something to eat from some place other than the Eat Inn Diner. No matter what that doctor said, Sam wasn't about to go running back to the same place after Dean's episode.

Sam turned the Impala down a neighborhood street cutting across a side street to get to the highway and their hotel two minutes faster than just going through the tiny main street of Omer.

Dean had his head leaned against the passenger side window, he hadn't uttered a single syllable since cussing Sam out when leaving the clinic. Dean's eyes were hovering near sleep when something caught his hazy gaze. He slowly sat straight, pulling himself away from the window.

A solitary Omer Town Police car was parked in the drive way of one of the houses on Maple Street. No flashing lights or bevy of press were wrangling for the best angle or quote. There was nothing to raise Dean's hackles, but his hackles raised, regardless.

_Stop. _A voice that wasn't his sounded in his brain. He looked over at Sam whose eyes were glued to the street so as to avoid steamrolling one of the neighborhood kids as they chased balls into the street or the BMX bandits trying to outmaneuver each other on their bikes and homemade ramps.

_Stop. _That voice again. Dean looked out the window, maybe he was hearing one of the kids outside? He furrowed his brow, his cranky mood from the previous day still hanging on and getting worse as the seconds ticked by.

_STOP! _

"Sam, stop the car," Dean growled, finally giving into the voice, not the least bit happy about it.

Sam looked at Dean, confused, "What? Why?"

Dean pointed at the house with the cop car in the driveway, "Something's going on."

"Yeah, Dean. I see that. But, it's not our problem, Dean. You need to rest and get some food. Come on, man."

"Why do I have to constantly beg lately Sammy? Just stop the fucking car!"

Sighing deeply, Sam begrudgingly slowed the car and pulled ahead of the driveway Dean was pointing at. He slammed the gear shift in place hard enough to make Dean snap his head to the left and glare at him, "Watch how you treat her, Sammy."

Dean opened the passenger side door and carefully lifted himself out. He still wasn't sure if his land legs were working correctly, but now was as good a time as any to test them out.

He took a tentative step away from the Impala and was pleasantly surprised at his continued vertical status.

Sam approached Dean on the left and stayed a pace behind, just in case, "Dean, what are we gonna say? We have a hunch that something _might _have happened and we _think _we can help? How lame is that, man?"

"Sam, why can't you just trust me on this?" Dean turned to confront his brother, "I mean, you have been fighting me on this every step of the way. Why can't you, after all these years, trust me?"

Before Sam could answer, the front door to the split level home opened and the Omer Town cop walked out thanking the lady of the house for her time and that he'd follow up with her in a day or two. He was smiling and shaking his head as he approached his car, but stopped just short of arm's length of his patrol car when he saw the strange men standing on the driver's side, looking as though they were about to pound the shit out of each other, "Excuse me, guys, can I help you?"

Dean adjusted his shoulders, "Hi! We're … uh … we're here…" he looked to Sam for an assist, which came in the form of raised eyebrows and not much else.

Fortunately, the lady of the house came running out of the house, "Have you seen my Jimmy? Please, tell me where he is. He's a good boy, just bring him home…bring him home." She sobbed into the cop's shoulder.

Dean sighed, and became very uncomfortable, he didn't handle distraught women very well, and a crying, distraught mother was a different animal all together.

Sam took that moment to step in with his puppy dog eyes and easy tone, "We…uh…we're friends of Jimmy's… sort of. We owe him…a…uh…a favor. He helped us out of a jam and we'd like to pay him back. You said he's missing though?"

Mrs. Caldwell sobbed and nodded into the cop's shoulder and in a muffled voice, "It's been a day and a half since my Jimmy's been home. He never stays away that long…never."

The cop patted the crying woman gingerly on her shoulder, but without sympathy, "Ildra, Jimmy's probably out with friends. I will keep an ear out. He used to hang with my little brother, Jonas, so maybe he's heard something. We'll file an official missing person's report tomorrow."

"Johnny said he was here yesterday morning. He came home from work and then just left again. Johnny said he didn't take his car or say good-bye or anything. That's not like my Jimmy." She started sobbing again and the cop continued to pat her shoulder like he was counting out a cadence.

Dean and Sam watched the woman sobbing on the cop's shoulder, not sure if the woman had been addressing them, the cop, or the universe. Sam was the first to break the tension, "Is Johnny here? Do you mind if we talk to him? Maybe, he'll remember something, ya' know, because we're friends of Jimmy." He knew he sounded lame, but he couldn't think of anything else to try with the sobbing woman, suspicious cop, and insufferable older brother.

She nodded into the cop's shoulder and pointed down the driveway, but the cop stopped them before they could get half a step down the driveway, "Fellas, hold up. Ildra go back inside while I talk to these friends of Jimmy's." The cop watched as Ildra Caldwell staggered across her front lawn, sobbing, holding her arms across her waist.

The cop, Officer Tony Hanson, swiveled his head back around, his coal grey eyes regarding each of the brothers in turn, "You're not friends of Jimmy's. Wanna know how I know? This is a small," he rolled his eyes, "unbearably small town. Jimmy, Johnny, me, we all grew up together. I know all of Jimmy's friends, 'cause they're all from here. So, before I let you go in there and rile up poor simple Johnny, you're gonna tell me who in the holy hell you really are."

Dean and Sam sighed at the same time, Dean slammed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, shrugging his shoulders, "We're monster hunters. We go around the country looking for evidence of supernatural activity and destroy the thing causing problems. We think, well," he laughed, "_I_ think that there's something going on at vets' offices around the state and I think that Jimmy got himself ganked by one of our little ghoulies. Not that I think it's a ghoul, they're scavengers and eat the rotting flesh of the dead, though they won't turn down fresh meat if it crosses their paths."

Sam's eyes were bugging out of his head. He could almost see the unbelievable words flowing out of Dean's mouth and if he concentrated hard enough he could grab them out of the air and bury, salt, and burn them. He swung his head around to look at the cop's reaction as he realized the sound of Dean's gravelly voice had been silent for more than a few seconds.

Officer Tony furrowed his brow, "Whatever. You want to talk to simple Johnny that badly, get right after it. But, believe me when I say, you won't get anywhere with him. He barely knows his own name most days, let alone anything as complicated as the details of his missing brother. Just, if you do happen to find out anything, keep me up to speed, and do NOT say anything to Mrs. Caldwell, Ildra, in there. She's a toenail's length from the loony bin, if you get my drift."

Officer Tony crossed to the driver's side of his patrol car and waited for Dean and Sam to slide out his way, before opening the door he landed a thousand yard stare at them, "Oh and if I were you, I would tread very lightly with folks in this town. We're a close knit community and don't appreciate strangers poking around in our business." Officer Tony opened the driver's side door and slid behind the wheel without waiting for a response. He slammed the driver's side door and pulled out of the driveway giving the men a casual, but pointed salute.

Sam and Dean watched the cop pull away, then Sam rounded on Dean, "Why…what the hell was that about Dean? Telling him everything like that?"

"Come on," Dean growled as they headed down the driveway, not exactly sure what they were supposed to be looking for, "He didn't believe me. Where are we going…oh, check this out."

Dean pointed to a small indentation on the exterior of the house towards what would be the kitchen area on the interior. There was a door camouflaged to look like the rest of the house without any visible knob though. Dean patted and pulled the panels but nothing happened, not one to give up, he turned and went to walk towards the garage to look for a pry bar, but his boot caught on a crumbling piece of asphalt and he lost his footing. Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's shoulder and shoved him back against the house to keep his brother from falling on his face.

Sam laughed, "Smooth, Dean, real smooth."

"Shut up…well looky what we've got here." The not so secret panel door had popped open, "I guess it was a push not pull. There should be a sign." He gave Sam a half turn and smirk and entered the darkened corridor leading to the basement.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

God damn it, she was late!

What started out as a great morning had quickly, not really gone downhill so much as plummeted like a meteor screaming towards Earth.

Josie Goodwin's boyfriend, Gary, had chosen this morning to get down and dirty. No, this morning couldn't have been a quickie relief for Camp Morning Wood…oh no. This morning had to be a full on vacation at Resort Good Fuck. Not that she was complaining, well a little because she was fucking late for work. But damn that was some good lovin'.

She'd gotten out of bed on rubbery legs and stumbled to her bathroom for a shower only to find NO HOT WATER! WHAT THE FUCK?

Grumbling, she threw her ash blonde tresses in a purple scrunchy, ran some cold water in the sink basin for a really crappy sponge bath. She hit all the major areas quickly and efficiently. Her sexually sated, relaxed mood was quickly morphing into a dark and cranky I – Don't – Give – A – Fuck mood, especially as she caught the time on her bedside clock.

How had she missed that?

8:15?

8 – motherfuckin'-15?

"ARRRRGH!" she screamed, for the fourth time that morning, though this time was not out of pleasure.

She hustled as quickly as she could, throwing on the navy blue scrub bottoms and sky blue scrub top that was her uniform for The Omer Veterinary Clinic.

God, Doc Alex, was going to be pissed. Josie was supposed to be there at eight to feed, water, and walk the animals, as well as clean the cages before the doc started her day. Granted the days were starting later for the next week or so due to the break in. Doc was once-overing all the animals to be sure they were still as healthy and happy as they were prior to the break in, but still.

Damn it to hell, she was late!

On the way out of her apartment she banged her shin against the corner of her coffee table, "Fucker, fuck, mother-FUCK!" She limped down the cement stairs to her car to find that she'd left her purse in her apartment…her locked apartment!

"Seriously? Universe…are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?"

She slumped against the driver's side of her car, trying to steady her breathing. Reluctantly, she pushed herself off her car and hoped like hell the apartment manager, Del Turner, was up, awake, and dressed, especially dressed.

Pounding on his door, "Del! Del, get up man…I need your help!"

The door ripped open suddenly and one of her door fist pounds landed squarely on his naked chest, "Sorry. I…uh… I locked myself out of my apartment and I'm late for work. Can you use your spare, please?"

Del regarded her with his piercing blue eyes. He rubbed a hand across his well-formed pecs and landed that hand as well as the other on both his hips, "I heard you and your old man goin' at it this morning'. Forgot you were a screamer, Jos." He licked his lips lasciviously and smiled.

"Del. Come on. Don't be a prick. I'm all ready late as fuck. We've been over for awhile. And, what do you mean you heard me and Gary?" Shit! Like she needed the whole complex hearing her personal business. Shit!

Del pointed his index finger above his head, "Your bedroom's over my living room babe. Yeah, I'll help ya'. Lemme grab my keys. And babe, I'm glad he's doin' ya' right."

For all his posturing and perverted behavior, Del was a really nice guy. Josie and Del had had a brief interlude, well, a few brief interludes and it was really good. But, Del was transition guy and Gary was long-haul guy.

Del returned in short order with not only his keys but a shirt and was pulling it over his head as he pulled his own door shut behind him. Josie lead the way up the stairs back to her apartment when she heard a growling from behind her. She stopped with one foot on the last step and the other on the step just below and turned around. Del was growling at her.

"Del?"

"Baby, you have THE finest ass. I could watch you climb stairs all fucking day long."

She laughed and blanched noticeably, "Del, so not the time. I'm with someone else. And, I'm really fucking late. Can we please hurry?"

Del closed the distance between them, and for good measure, smacked her ass on the way by, ran to her door and had it open in a flash. Josie limped, as quickly as she could, by him and grabbed her purse off the kitchen counter. Before leaving the apartment she rummaged through her purse to be sure her keys were in fact there, satisfied, she stood on tip-toes and brushed a soft kiss on Del's whiskered cheek, "Thanks, Del."

She half ran and half limped to her car and peeled out of the driveway. Josie put the pedal to the metal and made it to the clinic in record time, though still super late. Josie was quite thankful that Tony, Omer's one and only cop, didn't seem to be out and about this morning. She sent silent prayers of thanks to whoever was above.

Josie slammed out of her car and gimped to the clinic door, stopping short of jamming her key in the lock. She looked over her shoulder, nope, no one behind her. The back of her neck tickled like something crawled across it like… A SPIDER!

She dropped her keys and swiped at the back of her neck, "Gross…GROSS!" She did the icky-spider-on-my-body dance and the gross-out-two-step and checked her scrubs for the remains of the eight legged freak. Relieved not to see remains or the live body, she bent for the keys and whipped inside the building before anything else weird could happen to her today.

The beeping of the alarm system was the only thing keeping her in motion. Sighing heavily, she punched in the security code and went about her morning routine at Mach 10 speed.

Lobby fish – Fed!

Lobby lights on – Check!

Exam Rooms – Lights, Meds, Fridge Temps – Triple Check!

Scratch Rasputin – the clinic cat – behind the ears – Check!

Patient Charts pulled – Check!

Power on ancient computer and wait 30 minutes for it to boot up – Check!

She looked around the lobby, satisfied that everything up here was taken care of it was time to go downstairs and get the animals ready for the day. This she would take some time with. Doc Alex wasn't due in for another 45 minutes, so she still had time to pamper the patients, good deal.

Josie opened the door and before turning the lights on she stopped and tipped her head to the side, her hand hovering mere inches from the light switch, "Hello? Is…is someone down there?"

She'd seen too many scary movies and the crazy morning had made her paranoid, but she could have sworn she heard…what? Whispering?

She flipped the lights on and skipped down the stairs, shaking off the…whatever she was feeling.

Yeah, whispering. The animals secretly talked amongst each other when no one, no human, was around. She laughed at her paranoia and to make herself feel less stupid, "Mornin' everyone! Rise and shine. I'm sorry I'm so late. It was one hell of a morning let me tell you what." And she did tell the animals about her morning as she set about preparing breakfast for her patients.

Patients fed and watered – Check!

Patients walked –Check!

Patient "rooms" cleaned – Check!

On her way out of the basement, Josie stopped by the last cage out – or first one in, depending on which way you were going – and unlocked the door. She let out the Belgian Shepherd, Gretchen, and kneeled to the floor and wrapped her arms around the neck of the animal.

"Today's the day, girl. I'm going to talk to Doc Alex and you're coming home with me, today!" Josie planted a kiss on the black muzzle and was rewarded with a full face lick from the animal.

Poor Gretchen. Her owner's had dropped her off for boarding when they went on vacation…Six. Months. Ago!

Doc Alex was more than pissed that they'd leave a member of their family behind, once it was realized that the family had actually moved away, permanently!

With a heavy heart, Josie started to put Gretchen back in the cage when the whispering started again and that same tickling sensation landed on the back of her neck. She slapped the back of her neck once, twice, three times and this time she KNEW she heard the whispering. It sounded like…like…what? Like bees, maybe? Or…or a radio station that was not tuned in quite right…yeah that was it.

In one smooth motion and more quickly than she ever knew she could move, she spun and stood in a defensive position placing herself between the Incredible Invisible Whisper Whisperers and Gretchen.

She was shaking all over and with more fortitude than she thought she had, "Whoever you are, I'm armed and know how to use it! Leave these animals alone!" Whispering to herself, "Leave me alone." This weirdo shit only happened at night and in really bad movies, not first thing in the morning at your place of employment, for fuck's sake.

What the fuck?

She realized the animals had become silent. There was no quiet mewling from the cats or snoring or whimpering from the dogs. The birds and reptiles had quieted as well. Josie turned around in a full circle and all the animals were…resting? Relaxed.

She knelt back down by Gretchen and buried her face in the animals reddish gold coat, "It's all right girl. Nothing will happen to you as long as I'm here. I promise. I will keep you safe."

The whispers grew louder, no clearer than before, but Josie seemed to understand them. She was no longer frightened. She didn't so much hear the words as much as they were diffused into her skin and filtered through her blood vessels. She slowly released her hold on Gretchen and stood to face the disembodied voices. Josie tipped her head to the side again, furrowing her brow, "Yes. Yes. I…I understand. Of course. I will."

Suddenly, the basement was suffused in a warm, golden light illuminating Josie, it seemed, from the inside out, filling out her voluptuous figure, lifting her pony tail, and throwing her arms akimbo.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Okey dokey… Hopefully, another chapter this week. I think I've found my groove. AND, I've totally fallen in love with Del. He might make an appearance or star in his own story. **


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Slamming into room 42 at The Condor Inn & Suites, Sam threw the Impala keys on the dresser, "Dean, was that necessary?"

Dean slipped in the room behind Sam and stopped mid-step and gave his younger brother a half turn glance, "What?"

"The kid. Dean, you scared the holy hell out of him."

Dean planted himself against the counter in the kitchenette of their suite, crossed his arms over his chest, "Yeah. That cop said that kid was simple and that we'd never get anything coherent out of him. Sam, if you didn't notice, he wasn't so simple. He was lucid and…something," Dean's voice trailed off like he was trying to think of the right word or memory.

Sam watched Dean struggling with his thoughts and deciding against asking again, about the dream, the seizure, and totally dismissed the idea of bringing up Dean's semi-conscious mumblings, Sam finally decided on, "I'm taking a shower."

Dean watched his brother retreat to the bathroom, brow furrowed. He scrubbed his hand over his face and squeezed his eyes shut so tight he created white starbursts, he spun and kicked the counter behind him, once, twice, three times for good measure, growling, "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck," with each kick.

He felt like he was losing his damn mind. At every turn there seemed to be a road block against everything in his brain. He couldn't think more than a few minutes in the past and certainly couldn't make a plan for the future.

Neither of them could.

Sighing heavily Dean grabbed a duffel off the table, unzipped it, and found the bottle of amber liquid. Feigning looking for a glass for the invisible crowd of judgmental nobody's in the room, Dean shrugged his shoulders, undid the screw cap, and took a long draught from the bottle.

There _was_ something up with that kid, Johnny Caldwell. Dean wanted to talk to Officer Tony again, get some more details about him and his brother, Jamie? No, not Jamie…what was the brother's name again?

Another wave of frustration coursed through him causing him to take an even longer haul on the bottle.

* * *

><p>In the shower, Sam was supporting his weight by leaning his hands on the wall behind the spigot, his head hanging loosely, chin almost touching his chest, the scalding water running down his back.<p>

He told Dean he was taking a shower, mainly to get away from him. He wanted to throttle some information out of his brother, but Dean kept that shit locked up tighter than Fort Knox. Maybe tighter. At least Fort Knox had some intrepid individuals who tried to break in and lived to tell the tale.

Sam had the fanciful feeling that Dean probably thought if he let loose with the feelings his body would fall apart like a jig-saw puzzle being dumped on the floor. Being put back together would be an arduous task, but the true fear was not being able to find all the pieces in order to complete the puzzle.

No, Dean wouldn't be forthcoming, at least not by force. Sam would just have to wait until Dean was ready to start framing the border before the rest of the puzzle could be constructed.

He did have a point though, that conversation with the kid was not what he'd expected, especially after talking to that cop.

When they'd stormed into the basement, Sam wasn't sure what to expect, but a kid with an astrophysics book open at his feet, an aircraft carrier model on the table in front of him, and an erector set built like the George Washington Bridge on the other side of him was definitely not on that list!

The kid did not look strung out and when he spoke it was with a slow measured but clear and steady tone. Dean was right, Johnny Caldwell was lucid and sober, and intelligent. He showed no signs of being a junky or simple, as Officer Tony put it.

Turning around and bending lower to allow the steaming water to soak his long brown hair, Sam continued to think about Johnny Caldwell. Laughing and shaking his head, how funny and embarrassing would it be for Dean to find out he was thinking about a guy while taking a shower. Shit, if Dean was in his right mind he'd be giving Sam hell for thinking about HIM during his shower, he laughed again.

Johnny had talked openly about all the drugs he'd taken as a guinea pig for his brother, Jimmy. It turned Sam's stomach to think of the kid's older brother using him like that, he could have easily over-dosed and died, but Jimmy wanted a test subject so he could tell his clients about the great heights the drugs would take them to. But, then, Jimmy had brought home some weird drug the other day, the day he disappeared, and Johnny had been back to his old self again in no time.

Dean and Sam had pressed Johnny for information about the drug and this was the part that drove Dean over, the kid couldn't remember what it was. He knew his brother had brought him something in a glass vial and he'd run into the bathroom and cooked it down and shoved it into his eroded veins and since then, he'd been feeling good, normal.

Sam had to peel Dean off the kid after another 20 questions about the drug turned up absolutely nothing. Dean grabbed the kid and tossed him up against the wall, one hand wrapped around the kid's throat and the other, well, the other had pulled the hand gun out of the back of Dean's pants and pressed it to the kid's eyeball.

The kid nearly pissed his pants, Sam didn't really blame him. Sometimes, Dean scared him, too.

The water turning cold is what made Sam leave the privacy of the shower. He slammed the shower curtain open and grabbed a towel off the rack. Trying to wrap it around his hips, hotel towels were never big enough, he walked over to the sink and swiped at the condensation. He jumped and clutched his chest as Dean's reflection appeared behind him, "Christ, Dean. What the hell?"

Dean was frozen to the tiled floor, eyes unblinking, barely breathing, arms just hanging at his sides.

Sam passed his hand in front of Dean's eyes and snapped his fingers. Nothing. No response.

"Fuck! Dean! Dean, man, wake up!" Thinking that maybe Dean had fallen asleep and was now sleep walking, Sam tried getting his brother's subconscious state to talk to his waking state. Somewhere in his college brain, Sam remembered something about sleep walkers, like you're not supposed to wake a sleep walker. Great, just great. What the hell was he supposed to do?

In a voice that was definitely not his, Dean said, "I can't find it. It's gone. I can't change it. It's my fault. My fault! MY FAULT!"

Dean's voice may have been screaming, but his body and facial expression remained frozen in reticence. That was the part that sent chills through Sam's half naked body. If Dean's affect had matched his hysteria then maybe Sam could have understood, but his brother seemed to be two different people at once. Sam could only stand and watch and wait for Dean to awaken and keep him safe in the mean time.

Was it hours later or only a few minutes? Sam wasn't sure, when Dean finally came out of his stupor, how long it had been.

Dean shook his head from side to side and blinked his eyes like he was batting away grit falling into them. There were tears streaming his face mixed in with perspiration that had sprung forth during the screams.

Sam had slid down the bathroom wall and rested his arms on his knees and his head on his arms, waiting for Dean's fit to pass. He didn't even leave the bathroom to put his clothes on. He just sat and waited.

He peaked out at the silence and watched his brother return.

"Sammy," Dean's voice was hoarse, "What…how…what?" He scrubbed his face and was perplexed when his hand came back damp but refused to ask the question of why.

"Dean? You back man?" Sam whispered carefully. Using his hand as a brace against the wall, Sam stood and tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed in concern.

Dean looked around the bathroom in sheer confusion and at his brother in utter horror as the towel that had barely covered his hips had failed miserably and Dean was staring at a whole lot of his brother that he didn't want to see.

Holding up his hands to shield his eyes, Dean grunted, "Dude, manscape, seriously." He turned on wobbly legs and staggered out of the bathroom, leaving Sam blushing and irritated.

"Dean. Dean!" Sam yelled, grabbing the towel off the floor and covering himself, he stalked out of the bathroom. He grabbed his boxers and jeans off the bed and slid into them with such economy of movement that it was like they'd attached themselves to his body of their own accord.

"Sam, not now." Dean said behind the bottle of amber liquid.

"Yeah, Dean, now!" Sam roughly pulled a blue t-shirt over his head and yanked it so hard a seam ripped in the shoulder, "Damn it!" He whipped the shirt over his head and tossed it in the garbage. Grabbing another tee he pointed it at Dean, "We need to talk about what is going on with you and we're going to do it, now!" Sam slid into this shirt more carefully, he couldn't afford to ruin more clothes.

Dean leaned on the table gripping its edges and squeezing his eyes shut tight, the white starbursts returned, sending searing and stabbing pains through his brain. He dug the heel of his hand into his eye, "Sam, I can't…"

"BULLSHIT!" Sam bellowed, "You _can't_ talk about it. You're just going to stuff this shit down, again, and dive into the bottle, again! But, god damn it, Dean, there's something going on with you and as luck, our bad luck, would have it, there is something going on in this town! So, you're going to have to suck up your god damn pride and talk about it!" Sam was breathing like he'd been running, he ran the back of his hand across his lips to catch some errant beads of sweat that cropped up during his rant, and he planted his hands on his hips in defiance, waiting for Dean to talk.

Dean tipped his head to the side and a smirk twitched the corner of his mouth, "Sam, when I say I can't talk about it, I mean, _I can't talk about it_! It's like there's a road block, like one bitch of a brick wall, blocking this to this," he pointed from his head to his mouth. "I feel like there's something… something just out of my reach and every time I try to grab hold of it…poof! It's gone." Pushing himself off the table he strode, carefully, into the main part of the suite and stopped just short of Sam, "I almost forgot," he pointed a shaky finger in Sam's face, "Told ya'! HA! Now, I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."

Sighing heavily and shaking his head from side to side, "Dean…"

Holding his hands up to halt the onslaught of more concerned words from Sam's puppy dog expression, Dean said, "Before you even get another head of steam up… just stop, Sam. If I could talk about it, at this point, yeah, I would, because it's driving me crazy. Let's go get something to eat and then you can tell me what made you realize I. Was. Right!" Smiling and laughing, half-heartedly, Dean turned away and let the anxiety wash over him as a field of white filled his vision.

"Fine, Dean, but, where are we going to eat? I'm not really sure we should hit up that diner again, but it's the only restaurant in over twenty miles." Sam spoke to Dean's back wondering what he was hiding.

"Let's hit up the diner again. Maybe we can run into Officer Tony or some other towns folk…maybe they've got some more information on Johnny Boy! And those pancakes were freaking awesome…ya' know…before my own personal earthquake set in!"

Heading out the door before Sam could say another word, Dean settled into the passenger side of the Impala and squeezed the bridge of his nose.

Sam reluctantly grabbed a flannel button up, his jacket, and the Impala keys and slammed the suite's door behind him. He was taken aback at Dean's passive and passenger position in the car, but stifled any comments, besides, "To the diner."

* * *

><p>"Ma! Hey Ma! Those guys are back!" Ivy yelled from the dining room of the diner.<p>

Sam and Dean stood looking perplexed and more than embarrassed at the dozen or so patrons of The Eat Inn Diner.

A very shapely woman with long, thick, curly red hair came hustling out of the kitchen, a concerned expression on her face, "Boys," she pulled them both into a motherly hug, "Thank you so much for coming back. I am so, so sorry about what happened the other day. I tossed all the food I had here, just in case. Have a seat. Have a seat." The woman ushered them both to the same booth they'd sat in previously, she leaned over the table, "Anything you want on the house, boys. Every meal from now on. You need anything, my Ivy will take care of you," she started moving away from the table and turned around with a smile, "If my Ivy can't get it for you, I can. I'm Eve." She turned back around and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Dean gave Sam a 'what-the-fuck-was-that' look and Sam responded with a 'I-have-no-fucking-idea' look and shoulder shrug.

Ivy came over with pad and pen in hand, "Ready to order guys?" Dean noticed Ivy eyeing Sam out of the corner of her eye and the corners of Dean's mouth twitched slightly, "Ivy, my brother and I need just another minute, thanks." Ivy shrugged small shoulders and moved over to the counter and made like she was too busy to care.

"Sammy, she's got Bambi eyes for you dude."

Sam rolled his eyes, "Bambi was a boy. She's too young, jail bait ring any bells with you Dean?"

Dean laughed, cleared his throat and said, "Seriously, though. The mom's name is Eve? Did you catch that? That's gotta be just a coincidence right? I mean we're not going to have to deal with that crazy bitch again, are we? Do we even have the juice at this point?"

Sam shook his head from side to side, "Yeah, I caught it. I don't know. This town is just really strange, Dean, really strange."

Dean crinkled his eyes and leaned in across the table towards Sam, "You wanna tell me why I'm right?"

Before Sam could respond, Ivy was back with pad and pen in hand, "Ready, now?"

Dean ordered from rote, "Double bacon cheeseburger. Fry an egg and put that right on top. Gravy fries. Deep fried mushrooms with bleu cheese on the side. Coffee."

Sam laughed and placed his order, "Turkey club on whole wheat. Mayo on the side. Sweet potato fries. Coffee's fine for me, too, thanks, Ivy."

The little waitress made a flourish on her pad, "Be just a few." She took half a step away from the table and did an impressive and very graceful spin, kicking her hip into the table and confronting Sam, "Twenty-two is NOT jail bait." Ivy flounced away and slapped their ticket on the kitchen spinner.

Dean threw his head back and laughed, pounding his fist on the table making the condiments jump and clang in protest, "Hahahahaha, burned by Bambi!"

"Shut up, Dean," Sam swallowed hard and grimaced embarrassedly.

"Just to twist the knife deeper, Sammy, you do know they deep fry those "healthy" sweet potato fries that you like to order so much," Dean used air quotes around the word healthy and through much more stifled laughter.

"Can we move past this please?" Sam practically begged.

Dean threw both his hands up, still giggling, and shaking his head back and forth, "Fine. Fine. Fine. So, you were gonna tell me why I was right."

For a second time, before Sam could reply, Ivy returned to their table with plates stacked up her slender arms.

Waiting patiently for Ivy to place their lunch before them, Dean couldn't help a sarcastic glance in Sam's direction, Sam pursed his lips and furrowed his brow at Dean but then gave Ivy a quick awkward smile, "Thanks, Ivy."

Talking through a mouthful of heart attack in a sandwich, "Sho, Shammy, shpill," little bits of the sandwich flew out from his puckered his lips.

Sam took a sip of the ice water that Ivy had planted on the table along side of the coffee, "Dean, I remember what it's like, okay? You even said it to me. You said the words to me and I've never acknowledged them. But, I remember."

Dean swallowed the mouthful with a pained look, "What, Hell? Yeah, we've been through this."

Sam shook his head while chewing on his sandwich, "No, Dean, not Hell. You said, how did you put it, you said she left me cracking out. Dean, I was strung out. I was a junkie. You were right. I remember what it was like, what I was like, what I felt like, and that kid? That kid, Johnny? Not a junkie. Not strung out. I may have said it at one point but I never meant it, but now, now, believe me when I say, Dean, I am so sorry. I'm really sorry." Sam picked up his ice water and drank away the tears that were threatening to spill from his glistening eyes.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

Dean chewed his sandwich thoughtfully, regarding his younger brother behind world weary green eyes. He thought Sam had apologized before but he'd always felt that something was missing from the words and now he knew what was missing; Sam's realization of the pain and devastation that he'd caused, not to the world, but to his family.

Dean continued to chew as if trying to swallow Sam's words along with the burger, swallowing the hard lump that had formed in his throat that had nothing to do with the food in his mouth he managed, "So, where do we go from here?"

It was Dean's version of acceptance, never one to linger on an emotional moment, the words weren't important, the tone is what let Sam know the true meaning behind the words. And right now, Sam was thankful for Dean's famous, "No chick flick moments," stance.

Sam looked around the diner and shook his head, "I don't know man. You said you wanted to check out the vet's office. Wait…the vet's office. Didn't Johnny say that Jimmy worked there?"

Dean furrowed his brow, "Jimmy?"

"Yeah, Dean, the brother? The missing kid. Drug dealer extraordinaire…Jimmy Caldwell." Sam tipped his head to the side as he watched Dean trying to sort out the information and waiting to see if it was going to cause another seizure or that scene from Scanners. Satisfied that his brother's brains weren't going to make a spectacular and gruesome appearance, Sam continued, "I say we finish up here and head over to the vet's office. Maybe we can catch some EMF or sulfur or something over there. We can't really do research until we find _something _to research."

They skarfed back the rest of their food and received another awkward hug from Eve, "You boys come back here any time." She gave them affectionate caresses along their cheeks.

There was no check to pay but Dean noticed Sam hanging by the counter, Dean laughed and clapped his brother on his shoulder, "Last time I checked, Bambi and hunters don't make good company, but it does make a great porn title. Can ya' see it?" Dean stretched his hands in front of him in pantomime of a movie marquis, "Bambi and the Hunter: A Wild Romp on His Wood!" Dean threw his head back and barked out hysterical laughter.

Sam threw him an obvious "fuck off" scowl and pounded to the Impala without a look back at Dean, the diner, or Ivy, who was smirking and undressing him with her eyes.

* * *

><p>Dean was still laughing as they pulled into the gravel parking lot of Omer Veterinary Clinic. The building was not remarkable in the slightest; a single story cinder block square set about 500 yards back from the main road. It was surrounded on 3 sides by the stormy gray gravel parking lot. The back of the building was bordered by a field of lush green, which from a distance, looked like a stretch of fabric soft enough to lie down in and get lost in its luxuriousness.<p>

Both Dean and Sam found themselves standing in the middle of the parking lot staring slack jawed at the field of green. They shook their heads and stared dumbfounded at each other, "That was strange," they said simultaneously.

Moving to the clinic door they each stole another glance at the field. Before becoming enthralled a second time, Dean whipped the glass door open, heard the tinkle of bells over head, and took in the interior. What he saw froze him to the spot. Sam crashed into the back of Dean who stumbled forward and turned looking panicked and ran into Sam and almost fell backward on his ass. Sam reached his hand out and steadied Dean's staggering form, "Dean," Sam started and then looked around the room and his mouth twitched at the corners, "Dean, you all right?"

Sweat had formed on his forehead, but Dean cleared his throat, "Yeah. I'm…fine."

They started towards the receptionist's desk when a vet assistant came out of the side door holding two thick folders, "Samson and Delilah, Doc is ready for you. Hey, Mrs. Seckla, how's Roger today?" The assistant addressed a woman so small and elderly that Dean thought if he blinked too hard he'd blink her out of existence.

He barely had time to regroup from the initial shock of entering the clinic, but the sight of Samson and Delilah had Dean nearly visibly trembling. The biblical names belonged to two of the largest Rottweiler's Dean had ever seen, Delilah, wearing a frilly pink collar, was the larger of the two beasts. Samson was perfectly content to walk by and go with the assistant, but Delilah decided that Dean required further inspection.

Mrs. Seckla regarded Dean and then spoke with the assistant, "I'll be bringing Roger in later this week. His poor little hoo-hoo just doesn't seem to be working right these days." The little lady turned her wrinkles on Dean and crackled, "Just hold on sonny. Once she's made her mind up she'll let you know."

Delilah was still standing a hand's breadth away from Dean, who was standing still as a statue, sweat beads trickling down his temples. Sam was standing just behind Dean, stifling his laughter.

Even though Hell Hounds were not actual dogs and couldn't be seen by normal people unless a demon deal had come due or you were doomed to Hell by other means, Sam couldn't help his humor at Dean's adverse reaction to dogs of all sizes and shapes.

ARUF!

Dean jumped so hard from the sound he stumbled back and landed on Sam's foot. He was clutching his heart and breathing heavily. Apparently, Delilah had made her decision as she tossed her over large head and sauntered into the patient room with her counter-part.

Sam barked out a high pitched laugh and gripped Dean's shoulder shaking his trembling body, "Did you kibble on your bits?"

Dean pursed his lips and pointed a shaky finger at Sam's giggling face trying to think of something clever to bite back, all he could manage was, "Mala flua."

Sam laughed harder and guided Dean to the receptionist's desk avoiding the half dozen or so other canines in the lobby. The desk was empty and didn't look like any one had attended to the very pregnant piles of documents in weeks, let alone today. There was no coffee cup on the warming plate and the red message light was blinking angrily at no one.

Sam turned around and saw the largest, fattest, meanest looking feline he'd ever seen just lounging on the furthest corner of the counter. The smoky gray cloud of fur had a sign beneath it which read:

_I am Rasputin, there is no disputin', the fact is I will not attack, especially if you give me a snack. A scratch or an itch will get ye rewarded, but continue to ignore me and I'll take a nap."_

Sam furrowed his brow as the little rhyme seemed to just peter out at the end, when a female voice addressed the two men, "Yeah, it's not very good, but it's pretty chucklish don't ya' think?"

Sam and Dean turned back to the receptionist's desk and were met with a very gracious and pretty smile, crystalline green eyes crinkled up at the men. The girl sat in the chair and clucked her tongue at them, "The free clinic is in the next town guys."

Dean's bravado had returned and he flashed the pretty receptionist a winning smile, he leaned forward to read her name tag, "Josie. Like Josie and the Pussycats, seems appropriate for working in a vet's office. Josie, we're here," gesturing between Sam and him and reaching for a fake I.D., "to talk with the doctor about the break-in, if he's available."

Josie reached her hand out and looked at the I.D.'s, "She. Doc Alex is a she! State Police? No uniforms. Tony's been here and asked questions. Why would the state police be investigating a break-in?"

Sam knitted his eyebrows together, "There's been break-ins all over the state, at veterinarians' offices. We're investigating to ascertain," Dean turned his head to look at his brother and mouthed *ascertain*, "whether they are related and for what reason."

"Uniforms?" Josie asked suspiciously.

"We're plain clothes. Special Task Force. Basically," Dean leaned in like he was spilling some juicy gossip, "we're the Mulder and Scully of the state police." He flashed her another winning smile and cocked his head to the side winking at Sam.

Movement from the right of the receptionist's desk brought all three of their heads around. Samson and Delilah's appointment was over and their tiny human was addressing a taller woman, but then again a carpenter ant would have had to look down on this lilliputian sized woman, "and I just don't know what to do with Roger these days. That hoo-hoo of his is just causing him so much distress."

Dean found himself backing away from the women and the dogs, left hand dragging on the counter. He backed up so far that he brushed up against the cat, which hissed and jumped down knocking the treats onto the floor, and for the umpteenth time that day Dean lost his balance, as he was trying to avoid stepping on the cat.

Josie reached out and grabbed his hand to steady him. At her touch, Dean snapped his hand back as the field of white filled his vision and an electric shock went through his system. He managed to stay upright but rammed his left hip into the knob on the rolling file system and spinning around he slammed his right shoulder into the corner of the bookshelf behind Josie's desk.

Sam laughed at his brother's new(ish) fear of dogs and clumsiness but thought back to his own rash of bad luck caused by a cursed object, that damn rabbit's foot had wreaked so much havoc. A sudden thought filled his brain, firing all his synapses.

Is that what's going on?

ARUF!

Delilah weighed in on the events with another liver rattling bark. Samson just wagged his little nub of a tail and let his tongue hang stupidly out the side of his open jaws. Little Mrs. Seckla patted both giants affectionately and waved her thanks to the vet.

Dean limped back over to Sam, once the animals had disappeared through the door, rubbing his shoulder, he nodded at the vet. She flashed both men a commiserating smile, "Can I help you gentlemen?"

Sam went through the same state police spiel they had given to Josie, who, Sam noticed out of the corner of his eye, was standing up against the wall with her arms clutched around her waist, staring at Dean.

The vet nodded understanding and continued to smile, "I understand Officer…? I'm sorry, I didn't catch your names?"

Sam scrambled in his brain to pull one of their aliases out of his head, "I'm Sam Dee. My partner from the lesser known Not-So-Much-Flying-But-Falling-On-Their-Faces-Wallendas, Dean Young."

Dean glared a hole the size of the Grand Canyon through Sam's retinas and gave him a sarcastic smile.

The vet laughed, "Many of my pet owners are afflicted with cynophobia – fear of dogs, even some dog owners. They have a selective form of the phobia, unfortunately it usually manifests with what are known to many as, lethal canines or dangerous canines, of which Samson and Delilah are members due to breed, not nature. However, a select few are afraid of the smaller breed dogs like Pugs, Boston's, Yorkie's, and the like. It's a very interesting phenomenon. I apologize, I'm rambling. Gentlemen, if you'd like to follow me back to my office, we can talk in private. The rest of my patients are here for grooming, unless something comes up, Josie and Teresa can handle it." She winked at Josie, who was now sitting in her desk chair, rubbing her hands together so hard Dean was sure she was going to peel her skin off.

Dean watched the vet walk down a short corridor, her golden blonde hair was plaited down her back in a long thick rope that swayed with her hips. Dean imagined what it would be like to untie that rope and spread her hair out over his… Wow! Okay, he thought, enough of that thought process.

Doc Alex led them into a small office or a large broom closet, sort of that glass being half empty or full thing, Dean thought. She squeezed behind a desk that seemed to bend the laws of physics by somehow fitting into this office/closet, she gestured to the two plastic chairs, "Have a seat won't you?" She glanced at her multi-line phone and scowled, "Ever since the break-in, the parents, pet owners," she clarified, "have been calling non-stop. How can I help you? I don't know if I've properly introduced myself, Kate Alexander. You can call me Doc Alex, everyone does."

Dean leaned forward and extended his hand, "So, what can you tell us about the break in?"

Kate gave Dean's hand a perfunctory shake and regarded both men over purple reading glasses that hung precariously at the end of her perfect little nose. Her navy blue eyes were shrewd and she had the same tongue clicking habit as Josie the receptionist, "There's really not much to tell. The alarm didn't go off. Nothing was taken and the animals were left unharmed, at least as far as my preliminary examinations have determined. I have a few more animals to examine, but I'm sure they're fine as well." Her voice was smooth and rich even though she had a quirky clipped rhythm to her speech, almost like each word had a period at the end.

Sam was tapping his foot nervously, he was anxious to talk to Dean about the thought he accidentally tripped on, but he addressed the doctor, "Has a patient…er, a parent, or…or…I'm not sure what to call the animal owners…oh… Have any of your patients' owners given you a gift, like an antique with a colorful history?"

Kate's shrewd eyes swung towards Sam and she clucked her tongue again, tapping a pen on a large stack of unorganized papers, "Hmmm, now that you mention it…"


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

**Please be warned this next part is very explicit. High degree of child abuse. Do not think this was easy for me to write but it's something that has to happen to move on to the next. This was not for gratuitous sakes or exploitation. I went where the story took me. No offense is meant to any one and a review of this chapter is very much requested. Thank you!**

* * *

><p>Across town, across the tracks, the wrong side of the tracks, Margot and Merriam Blankenship were cowering in the hidden panel in their closet.<p>

Margot, 14, and Merriam, 10, were carbon copies of each other and in turn, carbon copies of their late mother.

Margot supposed that was why their father, "went after her" the way he did. She would be damned, though, if she let her half-cracked father go after Merriam like that. Margot would continue to take it and shoulder it all before that scum laid a finger on her baby sister.

Margot cradled her baby sister's head in her arms, stroking her brown waves, and rocking her little frame to soothe her, "Shhh, Mimi. Just try to settle down. He won't get you in here. I'll make sure of it. I'll make sure he doesn't get you, ever." Or me ever again, she thought.

She pulled Merriam away from her, cupping her sister's small tear streaked face in her trembling palms, looking into her glassy brown eyes, "Mimi, I'm going to go and see where he is. No," at her sister's whimper, "Listen to me. I'm going to take care of it. Do NOT open the closet door for anyone but me. Okay. Mimi, all right?" She watched her sister bite her trembling bottom lip and then she nodded slowly.

Before Margot could stand in the tiny, dark space, Merriam threw her frail arms around Margot's neck, "Love you, Getty! Hurry!"

Settling back down in the furthest darkest corner of the darkened space, Merriam pulled her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her head on her knobby knees.

Margot stood to her full height of five foot nothing, adjusted her shoulders, and rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. As quietly as she could, Margot slid the thick panel of plaster board to the side then pushed on the cedar wall of the closet. She gripped the side of the panel tightly enough to turn her knuckles white and peeked her head around the panel. She was relieved to see the closet door still closed with her makeshift booby trap, a pile of shoes, still in a pile.

She stuck her hand back through the panel and gave her sister a thumb's-up, which was Merriam's cue to slide the dry wall back into place. Margot closed the secret panel and was momentarily relieved when she heard the tell-tale _click _of the latch sliding into place.

Margot had felt much braver inside her little hidey hole and even though she was still in her bedroom closet she felt exposed and vulnerable. Tears threatened to spill out of her large, brown eyes but a quick squeeze and a breathless whispered, "No!" sent her, cautiously, into her bedroom.

Her hands left wet palm prints on the ugly, flat brown closet door. Margot quietly latched the door and looked around her darkened bedroom. It may have been early afternoon but Martin had installed black out curtains in each of the rooms, privacy was key when you're a sadistic child rapist, she thought sarcastically.

Even though it was a school day Martin Blankenship liked his girls home. With him. All. The. Time.

No friends over for birthdays. No going to friends' houses for anything.

No school.

Margot chanced a fleeting thought of her mother. She'd homeschooled the girls because Martin said so.

Margot quit calling him dad the first time he raped her, she was 7 years old.

She'd always seen on tv how some random teacher or adult who would mysteriously show up and inquire about the whereabouts of the children, rescuing them from the abusive situation.

Margot blew her breath out in derision, like that was ever going to happen. If they were going to be rescued from this hell, Margot was going to be the one to do it.

Another breath and a fleeting glance towards her bed that she hadn't slept in, voluntarily, since that first awful night.

Margot saw the picture of her mother, Merriam, and herself on her night stand. She knew it was laying face down, as always. She had turned it face down that night after he left her room, she couldn't bear the sight of her mother's lovely face looking at her through the photograph. Goodness knew her mother hadn't looked at her any more after that night, nor did she look at her the day she died.

With a snarl on her face she imagined the first thing she was going to do once she and Merriam were out of this hell hole. She was going to burn that bed. Hell, she was going to torch the whole house and she would gladly stand outside and cheer at the blazing inferno.

Finally, she moved away from the closet door and around the bed, avoiding touching an inch of the skirting. She padded across the room in sock feet, watching the floor boards as she stepped. Margot knew every creaky board in her room, the hallway, and on the short staircase. If Martin had fallen into unconsciousness in his drunken stupor, then she'd spring upstairs, grab Merriam and fly out of the house, never to be seen or heard from again.

Martin was always good for a nice 4 or 5 hour nap after a bender and some special quality time with his oldest daughter. But, today, he'd gone after Merriam for the first time and Margot snapped. She grabbed the nearest hard instrument, a wooden barrel, that at one time had been a rolling pin. Margot wasn't sure why it was lying in the living room on the floor next to Martin's vinyl and duct tape recliner, but didn't spare it more than a fleeting second before she cracked him on the back of the head. His large body collapsed on Merriam's tiny frame and she screamed, reaching her hand out from beneath his heavy arm. Margot pulled her sister free and ran her upstairs to the hidey hole. On hindsight, Margot should have taken Merriam and ran for it then, but Mimi had been too upset, she could barely climb the stairs let alone haul ass to the bus station.

Martin's skull cracking had been about an hour or so ago.

Margo took a tentative step off the bottom step of the stairs and crept on tip toes to the living room. Ice cold dread filled her and froze her to the spot.

Martin was gone.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod.

She was cracking her knuckles finger by finger using her thumb for leverage and biting her lip.

Staycalmstaycalmstaycalm.

Think this through, she was pacing and still cracking her knuckles. Okay, Martin…LEFT! Yes, that's it! Sometimes, after a "visit", Martin would leave. He'd go down to Wobbles and drink his liver into obscurity.

Feeling a triumphant swoop in her stomach Margot did a pirouette and started running for the stairs. She didn't make it four steps when her head railed back and she was whipped around so her face slammed into Martin's chest, "Not so fast girly." He had his fist wound tightly in her chocolate brown tresses, he yanked her head back and bent down in her face, his rheumy hazel eyes working to focus on her stunned face, "Bring her to me, Getty. Bring me my Mimi and I'll leave ya' alone. You're gettin' a little long in the tooth for my likin' anyway." He may have said so, but his hands still roamed over her body in a way that no father should touch his daughter.

His breath was like paint thinner on her skin, causing her eyes to water, she refused to let him make her cry, again, ever. She peeled her lips back and spit in his face, "Fuck you. I sent her away. You'll never get your greasy fingers on her. EVER!" She screamed in his face, laughing at the defeat that moved through his alky hazed eyes.

"You're goin' ta' regret that, girly!" Martin gripped her hair tighter and pulled her into him. He crushed his alcohol soaked mouth down on her tightly pursed lips. He ran a thick, gummy tongue up her face, then released her hair standing her up right.

Stunned at her release she had a brief moment of relief, maybe…was the last thought before the back hand sent her flying across the room. Margot landed against an ancient high-boy and rattled her mother's remaining knick-knacks or maybe that was her teeth. Her cheek felt like it had exploded and was wondering if her eyeball had rolled out of its socket. She felt a warm trickle of blood run down her cheek just as her head was yanked back again, her neck hyper-extended, "I'm just gettin' started." He'd removed his belt and laughed as he watched Margot grab for the back of the high-boy. He reached behind him and pulled the gun that she'd been reaching for, "You lookin' for this? Your momma told me it was there before she…uh…yeah…before she left." He made a show of examining the glistening black metal then placed it on a high shelf. He snatched his left hand out and grabbed Margot by the neck relishing the new fear spread across her face, "You'll scream, if ya' know what's good for ya'."

Martin cracked his leather belt across Margot's jean clad hips, she let out a quiet huff of breath. Angry, he threw Margot to the ground, face down, and before she could scramble away he had her arms behind her back, held both her small wrists in one of his large meaty hands. With his other hand he yanked the phone cord out of the wall and had her wrists bound.

He'd never gone to these lengths before, Margot thought, I'm fucked.

He flipped her body over and straddled her body, his knees on either side of her shoulders. He licked his dry, cracked lips and laughed that sickening laugh she knew all too well. Margot swallowed hard and tried closing her eyes, it was the only way she could escape. A wave of nausea swept through her and she opened her eyes. She couldn't take not knowing what was coming. She'd take everything he had to give and she'd look him in the god damn eye as he defiled his own daughter, but she'd never scream for him, she never did.

Maybe that's why he kept coming back to her. He couldn't break her, and over her dead body, he wouldn't break her.

Martin went to work on his own pants and had his thick shaft pumping in his hands, she swallowed a gag, "Open up and say ah, girly."

Margot was going to turn her head away and fight the inevitable but an idea, a disgusting idea, filtered through her brain, steeling her resolve, she opened her mouth, "Aaah." She forced her stomach to quit churning the bile that was threatening to explode out of her wide open mouth.

Martin leaned down and grabbed the back of her head forcing it up and he slapped the side of her face with his engorged cock.

SLAP!

"Not sure what you got planned, girly, but if there's biting involved, you're dead."

The defeat must have shown in her face because triumph reflected from his and he laughed as she clamped her mouth shut before he could maneuver that thing any closer to her mouth.

Damn it!

Tears spilled out the corners of her eyes.

She'd take it, she would. She would lay right here and take every lash, every sick, depraved thing he would do to her body for god knew how long and maybe he would kill her in the end. But, once it was done, once he was done, he would leave. He would go to Wobbles until closing and Mimi could get out, that was the plan.

They were going to wait until they knew for damn sure he was sitting on his favorite bar stool and they'd go. Their maternal grandmother lived some place in upstate New York, they were going there.

Merriam had specific instructions to just run if something went wrong with the plan. Margot made her promise, pinky promise, and Merriam made the sacred promise.

Margot became aware of Martin moving above her and she couldn't stop the retching that came along with his ministrations. She turned her head away and vomited as he ejaculated inside her. He fell on top of her retching form causing her to aspirate and start choking. With his weight atop her she couldn't properly dispel the fluid she'd inhaled back into her lungs and couldn't catch her breath.

Jesus, he was going to crush her to death. He'd passed out on top and inside of her.

Oh god.

All she could think was the police and everyone in town would see them like this.

Mimi would see this.

Black spots started forming before her eyes, swimming in the tears that continued to slip down her temples landing in her ears.

Whatever happened, Mimi was protected. There would be no more of this non-existence for Mimi and for Margot there'd just be no more…anything.

The last thing she saw before consciousness left her was the most beautiful golden light.


	9. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Dean fondled the little tchotchke Doc Alex placed at the end of her desk for the boys to examine. He held it up mere inches from his eyes, turned it in all directions, and even sniffed it. Satisfied with his examination he tossed it at Sam, hearing Doc Alex hiss at the careless nature he took with her property. Sam caught the small, ceramic statue awkwardly, grimacing at Dean.

Sam regarded the figurine with the same interest as Dean. His inspection was just as thorough and when he was done with his inspection he placed it gingerly on the vet's desk.

She'd watched them both examine her statuette, brows furrowed, lips pursed. She clucked her tongue when Sam placed it on her desk and raised her eyebrow, "So?"

Sam looked at Dean, eyebrows raised, "It's a beautiful statue. And you say, Mrs. Seckla gave it to you? Do _you_ know anything about this statue or where it came from?"

Dean realized then that Sam, just like him, had no clue what the thing was, and that his younger brother was trying to draw out something, anything, from the vet.

Sighing, she sat back in her chair and regarded each man, slowly turning her golden brown eyes on Sam and then finally settling on Dean, "Mrs. Seckla didn't have, hmmm, she still doesn't have the financial means to cover the cost of caring for her animals. As you can see she takes the larger breed dogs that most would rather have put down. The cost of those rotty's and Roger is quite staggering. I try to off-set the cost for as many patients' as possible, but I have to make a living as well. Mrs. Seckla pays me in knick-knacks from her house, she cooks me meals, and she'll take in any stray or death row inmate and rehabilitate them as best as she can. She's really Heaven sent. Not too many like her around, ya' know? Do you think this little knick-knack has anything to do with the break-in? I mean, she's given me many, but this one," she tapped the figure on the head, "this one she said is worth the most. I didn't want to take it, but she's a sneaky little thing." Doc Alex, both men realized, seemed to talk in paragraphs.

Dean sat forward a little, "Who's Roger?"

Sam sighed and gave him an exasperated look.

A large and very beautiful smile spread across Doc Alex's face, "Roger is a mix breed dog."

"What breeds?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.

"Dean," Sam snapped.

A lilting laugh broke the tension between the two men, "Roger is half Harlequin Great Dane and half Bull Mastiff. He was set for the gas chamber because the family who thought they wanted him didn't take care of him and he became… hmmm… aggressive. He's actually a sweet heart, but he's a giant breed and is misunderstood. Yes, misunderstood is a good word."

Dean swallowed hard. Sam could see the sweat beads forming on his brother's temples, he couldn't help a silent chuckle as he thought, well, you had to ask you dick.

"Can we focus on the break in, Detective Young?" Sam stared pointedly at Dean to try and derail his brother's canine thought process and back on the Weirdness Wagon.

Clearing his throat and itching the side of his face with his right hand, middle finger extended for Sam's eyes only, Dean opened his mouth to ask his next question when a pounding on the office door cut him off.

"Doc Alex," Theresa the vet assistant barged in, "The dispatcher just called, they need to borrow your SUV. It's set up for medical transport right?"

The lady vet stood and scooted around her desk causing the front of her light blue scrub top to rub across Dean's face, "Excuse me, Detective Young. Theresa, yes it's set up for medical transport, but why isn't Omer Township using their ambulance?"

Theresa rolled her eyes, "Small town life, Doc. The ambulance is at Greene's Auto Shop. Apparently, Ed decided to take it drag racing or something. You know how brilliant he can be sometimes." She couldn't move any farther into the office than the door jamb, which was a shame as she wanted to sneak some glances at the man candy hanging out in here.

Doc Alex was standing in the small space between Sam's and Dean's chairs, arms crossed over her chest, sighing deeply, "Ed. Drag. Racing. Yeah, Theresa, the keys are in it, but you'll have to get in the back and take the kennel out and all the equipment is calibrated for animals. Tell Bill and Oliver I expect my vehicle to be brought back in the same condition they found it, gas included." She started to turn towards back to her desk, then looked back at Theresa, "The back can only accommodate one person, a small person at that, who's injured?"

At that Theresa cast her eyes downward and her shoulders sagged, she bit her bottom lip and when she spoke her voice was wobbly, "Getty Blankenship." Theresa shook her head and left before Doc Alex could respond.

The Doc's hand was trembling as she lifted it to her mouth and her eyes grew wide and glassy, "Bastard," she spat.

Dean cleared his throat bringing her gaze down to his. He sucked in a breath as it felt like someone had just stabbed him in the heart, "Is there anything we can do to help?"

She tipped her head to the side, "I don't know," her voice was a whisper, "We were discussing the…uh…this… yeah." She lost her train of thought as she dropped heavily into her chair and held her head in her hands, squeezing her eyes shut and massaging her temples.

Dean and Sam continued to sit and wait in the thickening silence.

Sam realized that their meeting was over, "Doctor Alexander, we'll continue to investigate your break in. I…er…we don't think that statue is anything more than just a family heirloom. But, we'll look into it further, just in case." Sam held his large hand out to shake her small one, but she didn't even look up from her desk to acknowledge the polite gesture.

Dean reached in his jacket and pulled out a business card for the hotel they were staying at and quickly wrote his cell number on the back, "If there's anything else I can do…we can do…if you remember anything or just… yeah, my number's on the back." He put the card on the desk pointedly and held back an urge to caress her face.

Sam couldn't help but hear the references to "I" and "my" in Dean's statement and he suddenly grew exasperated with his brother's macking on the obviously distraught doctor.

Dean stood slowly and wiped his palms on his pants and waited a beat for Sam to lead the way out of the tiny office. He put a hand on the door jamb and turned and looked at the vet, she seemed younger somehow to him and frail, a sudden protective urge coursed through him. He gripped the wooden frame of the door to keep himself in check, "Call anytime for anything." She raised her golden brown eyes to him and gave him a sad smile and nodded her head.

Outside in the parking lot Sam wheeled on his brother and pointed a finger in his face, "What was that? Hitting on a grieving woman? That's a new low even for you Dean!"

Dean threw his hands out to the side, "Who said I was hitting on her? She was upset. We both know there's something going on here and I need to fix it! I…Shit! I mean…WE need to figure it out! You know what I mean. Don't give me that look, Sam. And…and…and don't look over there. That green shit is freaking me out!" He ripped open the driver's side door and plopped in the seat squeezing the bridge of his nose.

Whatever was going on in this town was wreaking havoc on their relationship and Sam wanted to get them the hell out. ASAP! But he knew that Dean wouldn't leave until he saw this thing out to the end, whatever that might be. So, grudgingly he slid into the passenger's side and sighed his acquiescence.

Dean nodded and pulled out of the parking lot, kicking up gravel, feeling more in control than he had in days. Being behind the wheel physically always helped him get behind the wheel mentally. He was able to focus his thoughts, put things in order, pull all the information they'd gathered into one neat little pile.

They rode in silence, Dean drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, singing under his breath, Sam had his head resting on the back of the seat, eyes closed. They were both sifting through their mental garbage when Dean finally pulled back into The Condor.

"I've been thinkin'," Dean said to Sam as they entered their room. Sam walked past Dean and plopped on what he claimed as his bed, Dean took his suit coat off and laid it across the table, "that old lady, Mrs. Dog Lover, am I boring you, Sammy?"

Sam had thrown his arm over his eyes. At the sound of his name, Sam removed his arm from his eyes and sat up and looked over at Dean who had a fresh glass of amber liquid and leaning on the room separator, "Dean, I need you to hear me out on this. We need to leave. Get out now and let someone else deal with this mess. There just seems to be too many puzzle pieces and not enough room to fit them in. You haven't been right with the seizure and whatever that was earlier. I just think we should call…"

"Call?" Dean interrupted, "Call who exactly Sam? Bobby? Cas? No…no…wait, let's call dad because that'll get us just as far. No! We're here and we're staying and we're going to figure this crap out. Stop fighting me every step of the way!" He spun and threw his glass across the small kitchen watching it shatter against the wall. He dragged his hands through his hair and went and leaned on the small sink with his hands linked behind his neck.

Sighing, Sam gave up the fight. Dean was right. They were here and they finally had a little something to research, that statue and little Mrs. Seckla, "Dean, what did you think about that statue? It looked familiar to me but I can't place it. And I do think one of us needs to go and talk to Mrs. Seckla. You wanna rock, paper, scissors for it?" Sam couldn't help a smirk thinking how Dean always went for the scissors and as everyone knows: Rock smashes scissors.

Dean raised his eyebrows at Sam, "Very funny, dick. You go and work your mojo with Senora Sahara. I swear that lady's a wind gust away from disintegrating into a sand dune." Dean laughed at his own bad joke.

Sam huffed out a laugh, "All right, I'll go. But, you get to sit here and research that statue. All homework, Dean, no porn." Sam got up off the bed and chucked his brother on the arm on the way out of the room. He looked back at his brother before shutting the door, worry walked across his face and settled in for the ride across town.

Dean plopped himself down at the table and cracked Sam's laptop open. He stared at the screen with his hands hovering over the keyboard trying to figure out what to type into the search engine. He had no idea where to begin.

That statue was a cheap replica made of milk glass. It was obviously a woman, as in typical Greco-Roman fashion her breasts were bare. Dean smiled and giggled, the 12 year old boy in him roaring to life at the sight of bare breasts. Shaking his head he focused again on the memory of the statue. She held two torches and had animals at her feet.

Sighing heavily he began typing every permutation of description he could recall from that figurine.

When nothing of significance popped up he sat back in the chair with his hands laced behind his head, he let his mind wander to Doc Alex.

Doctor Kate Alexander.

Kate.

Her long blonde hair that was like spun gold. He remembered how it hung in a long thick rope down to the middle of her back. He thought about those golden brown eyes peering up at him over the purple reading glasses.

She was petite and nicely put together with shapely hips and what he thought for sure was a nice rack. He laughed to himself. That scrub top didn't do her body justice and he thought about what it would be like to run his hands up underneath…something on the monitor grabbed his attention, a small notation on the side.

He leaned forward and clicked the link reading slowly and scrolling through the web site, "Son of a bitch." He picked up his phone and called Sam.

Just as Sam knocked on Mrs. Seckla's door his cell phone screamed for attention, "Yeah, Dean." He listened to his brother describe what he'd found and swallowed hard, "Do we know who? Yeah, I know. I know Dean! Right. Okay."

Mrs. Seckla opened her door as Sam clapped his phone shut, "Well, aren't you a tall drink of water? How can I help you?"

Sam had to look way down to address the little lady. He chuckled as a huge black and white dog stood head to shoulder as tall as Mrs. Seckla, "I'm Sam Dee. I was at the vet clinic when you were there. Do you remember?" Sam was speaking loudly and slowly as if addressing a deaf person.

Mrs. Seckla slapped him on the arm, "I'm not deaf big fella' and I'm not slow either. I understand just fine. Roger…Roger, get out of the way. Won't you come in?"

Sam looked around behind him, paranoia setting in, "Yeah, sure. I was hoping you might tell me about that statue you gave Doc Alex."


	10. Chapter 9

**A/N First: I apologize for taking so long to post. It's been a heck of a new year all ready. Second: I have used the image of Harriet Hosmer as a background and anchor for the statue. She was probably the most prolific female sculptor of the 19th and very early 20th centuries. I have taken some license with her image and mean no offense or disrespect to her or her admirers. Third: I am hoping to post another chapter by the end of the week to catch up. We are getting there, slowly, I know. Remember, I prefer the angsty, epiphany style Supernatural's over the gory style. Please have patience and above all else, please review...even if you don't like it...constructive criticism is accepted. Thank you!**

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><p><strong>CHAPTER 9<strong>

Samson, Delilah, and Roger took an instant liking or super focused interest in Sam. Mrs. Seckla led Sam over to her plastic covered chintz sofa and as soon as he sat the troika surrounded him.

Sam rubbed his hands on the knees of his suit pants and stared concernedly at the animals, suddenly feeling Dean's fear of dogs creep up on him. With one eye on the dogs he used the other to watch the elderly woman pour him some tea, that he didn't want and wouldn't drink, "Ah, so, that statue. You do remember the one I mean?" He cleared his throat and leaned carefully over the tops of the dogs' heads to take the dainty tea cup and saucer set offered by Mrs. Seckla.

Settling herself comfortably on a wing back chair in the same chintz pattern as the sofa, "Not sure what you see when you look at me, big fella', but I'm not some feeble minded old bitty. I remember my entire life, beginning with my first day of school and ending with this moment right here. To quote a movie, 'Youth is wasted on the young.' Now, I have given that pretty little thing several of my family heirlooms. I will need a little more information in order to answer your less than vague questions. Drink your tea. It's getting cold!"

Sam grimaced at her directness and obvious clarity and did as ordered, and sipped at his tea, afraid of another telling off. The dogs were in his way of the coffee table so he held the cup and saucer in his hands and gave silent thanks that Dean couldn't see him in this precarious position.

Gathering his thoughts and what he remembered from the statue and the information Dean gave him he scooted up on the couch, "Mrs. Seckla the heirloom you gave to Dr. Alexander is about ten inches tall, made of white milk glass. It's of a woman bearing two torches with animals lying at her feet. You told Dr. Alexander that it was worth more than the rest."

Mrs. Seckla leaned forward and placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table, stroking Roger's enormous head before she sat back. She folded her frail hands in her lap and gave Sam a piercing look, "I heard what you said but I do not hear a question. So, let me answer the unasked. My grandmother, Mama Hattie, made that and the other figures I've given away. She was quite a prolific sculptor and that particular piece was her last before she passed away. Milk glass is a very difficult medium and her attention to detail was extraordinary. She sold many of her designs and prototypes to some companies and received no commission on any of the sales, just the flat, one-time payment," Sam noted some bitterness in her tone but didn't interrupt. "That particular piece Mama Hattie named Diana, which is my middle name, and the reason that piece is worth the most is that it has no seam in it. Mama used many mediums, marble, bronze, glass. She used molds on many of her pieces but not that last one. I'm not really sure how she did it, but she worked tirelessly for weeks. Trial and error. Many broken experiments and much alcohol. Mama Hattie liked her gin, ya' know."

"Mrs. Seckla," Sam tried scooting to the end of the couch and was met with a chorus of growls, Delilah's being the deepest and loudest, Sam let out a nervous laugh and scooted back, "Ah, sorry, sorry about that. Good doggies. Mrs. Seckla," Sam gestured towards the dogs, "is there anything you can do here?"

The elderly woman flashed piercing blue eyes at Sam, "Sam, Del, Roger, hit the road." The troika turned their heads in unison and regarded their tiny mistress and then sighing they each lumbered off in different directions, Roger settled beside Mrs. Seckla in a loud _harrumph._

Sam relaxed back into the couch and started to look around the parlor. His eyes settled on a black and white photo of a woman working on a marble slab. He set his cup and saucer on the coffee table and made his way to the mantle where the picture sat. Sam pointed at the picture and looked towards the old woman, "Your…your grandmother is …er…was Harriet Hosmer? THE Harriet Hosmer? She…her biography never mentioned a marriage or…or children."

Mrs. Seckla gave Sam an amused expression, "You don't say. To say that Mama Hattie was a woman ahead of her time is an understatement. I didn't get to know her at all, really, and mother was raised by friend's of Mama Hattie's. You see, my grandmother was a bit of a free spirit. And when she found herself in … hmmm… trouble, she thought through her options and decided keeping the baby, my mother, was her only recourse, her only legacy, besides her art. But, she also knew that she didn't want to be tied down to motherhood. She gave my mother to family friend's with explicit instructions that she know who her real mother was and that her lifestyle wasn't suited to raise a child. Mother told me everything on my wedding day. Mama Hattie was a very special lady. Very special. Now if you don't mind. You've tired out this old woman and not in any way that I would be excited to write it down in my diary." Her tone was so matter-of-fact, Sam was taken aback.

The tiny woman placed her hand on Sam's back and scooted him to the door, Roger on her heels. Sam turned to thank her for her time but the door slammed in his face before a single syllable could be uttered.

He turned away from her door in stunned silence. Being a trained hunter from a very young age, Sam was used to looking and noticing all manners of behavior and things out of the ordinary. He noticed the kids in the street playing their summer games, lawn sprinklers watering the parched neighborhood grass, the quiet humming and buzzing of bees gathering nectar to take back to their hives. Nothing out of the ordinary, but that feeling of paranoia was still with him. He ran his hand across the back of his neck as he made his way to the Impala.

What he didn't notice, however was the tiny, ancient woman watching him with shrewd blue eyes from her parlor window through lace curtains, petting the gargantuan animal at her side.

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><p>While Sam was visiting with Mrs. Seckla, Dean had continued to troll the internet for more information on the handful of no information they had. The little website he'd found that had him so excited at first turned out to be a labyrinth of vague and unverifiable information. He was hoping the old woman had more information.<p>

He'd taken a few detours through the internet to stop at a few of his favorite sites, the last one kept him otherwise occupied for about 45 minutes, man did he love those Busty Asian Beauties!

Bored of the internet and hanging out in the hotel room he decided to take a walk, clear his head. He was tired, no, exhausted beyond words. The dreams, seizure, and whatever that weird episode was in the bathroom had him freaked out, to say the least and adding to his list of phobias: flying, dogs, and now fear of sleep? Like he needed that shit.

Dean thought talking to a few of the locals about Jimmy Caldwell about his character, besides the drug dealer crap, would garner some more information. Maybe someone knew of some occult behavior he'd been into or he was dating some chick who he pillow talked to about his extracurricular activities, or maybe said chick was a witch casting revenge spells. He knew he was reaching, but he knew there was something to grasp, he just couldn't see it.

He laced his fingers together, stretched them out in front of him and cracked his knuckles. He made the mistake of closing his eyes, the stark white "room" appeared behind his closed lids and the disembodied voice started speaking, "You must fi…" Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped up, knocking his chair over, "Son of a bitch! I don't know who you are but I will find a way to gank your sorry ass!"

Dean ripped his leather jacket off the back of the other chair and high-tailed it out of the room. He dug his hands in the pockets of the jacket searching for the Impala keys, "Shit," he scrubbed his hand through his hair. Sam had the Impala. He spun around looking at the hotel door he'd just exited, "Shit! Shit!" He hung his head, he'd forgotten to grab the hotel room key.

Sighing his resignation, Dean put one foot in front of the other and headed towards the main part of town. Thank fuck, he thought, the hotel was just at the end of the main street.

The sound of a siren brought Dean out of his thoughts. He stopped his progress and watched as a black SUV flew by, he swore the side read: Omer Veterinary Clinic, but it went by so quickly he convinced himself he was mistaken, "Must have said medical clinic," he grumbled to himself.

One of the things Dean had come to realize about every small town across the country was that though they might not have much in the way of entertainment, shopping, or culture, every single small town, okay, maybe not _every _small town, but nine out of ten had at least one bar! And Omer was no different.

Dean entered Wobbles and smirked. Yup, he thought, looks the same as every other dive he'd been in. He walked up to the well worn bar and grabbed a stool, "Barkeep! Beer, whatever's on tap and a shot of whiskey, whatever's in the well will work." Dean spun around and took in the patrons of the bar. Half a dozen regulars, or so it seemed to Dean, were gathered around the pool table, laughing, making bets, and arguing over what trick shot to try next.

There were a few patrons sitting at tables and eating…eating, Dean thought, food. He spun back around to the bartender, "Hey you serve food here?"

The bartender, a man whose skin color and hair were both gray, his fleshy lips drooped on the left side and his eyebrows threatened to consume his sight, regarded Dean with rheumy disdain, "Best burgers in the damn county, sonny." The man's voice was gravel over glass and thick like mud.

Dean's face lit up in the first real smile in, fuck, who knew how long, "Sign me up. The works." Dean slapped the bar and laughed. God, he loved food!

He was sipping his beer when a vaguely familiar shock of blonde hair caught his attention, "Keep! I'll be there…take your time." Dean slid off his barstool and walked to the back of the bar, he stopped beside the familiar figure and leaned over to make sure he knew, yup, his heart leapt in his chest and other things stirred further south.

"Hey doc, want some company?" Dean asked with a devastating smile.

Doc Alex looked up at him with those golden brown eyes, shimmering and glassy. Dean noticed a silvery trail of dried tears on her cheeks, "Hey, doc. What's goin' on? Maybe I can help…I…I mean my partner and…we can help. Just talk to me."

She snorted out a laugh, "Kill the bastard."

"I'm … I… uh…what?"

She laughed again, "Martin. Blankenship. Death is too good for that no good cock bite."

Dean smiled a little more to himself. He slid slowly into the chair opposite the vet, cupping his beer in both hands. He watched as she threw back a number of shots, slamming the small glasses on the table, "Whoa whoa whoa, slow down there. Don't you have patients to see later?"

She snorted again, "Cancelled the day. Being in a small town sometimes really just blows the big one. Ya' know? Everyone knows everyone's secrets but no one will do a GOD DAMN FUCKING THING! BASTARD!" Her tirade brought several heads around and a couple of the pool players started heading their way.

Dean put his hands out to them letting them know he had everything under control, "We're cool guys. We're cool," turning his head back to Doc Alex, "You want to quit with the cryptic and fill me in. I have been known to be pretty helpful on occasion. Doc, Kate, talk to me." Dean reached his hands out and stopped her from taking what looked to be her seventh shot.

She leaned back heavily in her seat and Dean reluctantly lifted his hands from hers as the bartender brought his cheeseburger, chips, giant pickle, and pickled egg and plopped the basked down in front of him with a grunt.

Kate Alexander cocked an eyebrow, "Looks good," she spun her head around calling to the bartender, "Hey, Horace. The same for me. Thanks." She spun back around to Dean, "Eat. Eat and I'll talk."

Dean cocked an eyebrow back at her and nodded. He picked up his burger and took a big bite. His eyes rolled in his head, and while chewing, mumbled, "Great burger."

Kate chewed her bottom lip deciding how much she should reveal, then sighing, "Getty Blankenship is 14 years old. Her real name is Margot. She has a little sister, Mimi…uh…Merriam…she's 10 years old. Their mother passed away a few years ago. Martin's their father. He's … uh… he's a bastard." She looked down and started fiddling with her hands in her lap.

Dean waited for her to continue, but she remained silent until Horace plopped another basket of food in front of her, "Thanks Horace."

She still hadn't continued the story, so Dean inquired, "He abused his kids? Beat them?"

Kate took a bite of the pickle and snorted, "Yeah, amongst other things." She still hadn't looked at Dean.

Realization dawned on Dean's face, yet he couldn't stop himself from asking, "You mean he…"

Kate raised her eyes to him and a look of disgust colored her face. She cocked her eyebrow at him again, then nodded her head.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, chewing food neither one tasted.

Kate finally broke the silence, "As far as it can be determined, he never… Mimi was never…anyway, he seemed to focus his attention on Getty. This morning he seemed to focus an awful lot of attention on Getty. Mimi found her on the living room floor. That was the interruption from Theresa this morning. I guess Martin had taken off. Those guys over there at the pool table? Yeah, they're waiting to cut his nuts off. Small town. Good news travel fast."

Dean closed his eyes against the horror rolling around in his head and was relieved at the sight of blackness behind his lids. He said it once and he'd say it every day until the day he died, demons he got, people were crazy, he shook his head at the thought.

Kate continued behind a bite of burger, "Martin just left her there. Those good ol' boys over there heard through the grapevine and showed up here waiting for him. He would come here after…every time…yeah, so they're waiting for him." Her mouth grew dry and she tossed her burger back in the basket, scattering chips on the table, the pickle was perilously close to rolling out of the basket and onto the floor.

Dean, likewise, tossed his burger back in the basket, he rubbed his hands together thinking, "Where else would he go?" Suddenly, all thoughts of Jimmy Caldwell's disappearance fled his brain and all he could think about was using Martin Blankenship to practice his torture skills ala Alastair.

She shook her head back and forth, "I don't know. He's not exactly a pillar of the community, ya' know? He just left her there." Kate started sobbing. Her hand flew to her mouth and suddenly she was up and running for the ladies room.

Dean stared at her empty chair and making a quick decision, walked over to the pool players, "Hey guys, I'm with the state police. I'm looking for Martin Blankenship? Any of you fella's seen him around?"

All six heads turned and glared at him. The pool players crossed their arms over pool cues and flannel covered chests, one of the players, shorter than Dean, with about fifty pounds on him stepped up, "We're lookin' for Marty, too. I guess it'll be a race to see who gets to him first, right officer?" He fiddled with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth.

Dean smirked, "Yeah, I suppose you're right. So, ah, you know of any other place where Marty would go…a hide out or a girlfriend's place?"

The six pack laughed and the same player spoke, "Marty ain't got no friends in this town. He certainly ain't got no woman neither. 'Cept for those two little girls, he ain't got nobody. And pretty soon, those little girls won't have him to worry about. And believe you me, cop, that's the best thing that could happen to those girls." The man turned back to the pool game, indicating the conversation was over.

Dean turned back to his table and saw that Kate had made it back. She looked green and clammy and worse for wear.

Sighing Dean sat back down with her, "You okay?"

She nodded quickly and laid her head in her hands, "They won't find him. He's gone, just like the others."

Dean's head snapped up, brow furrowed, "Others?"

Kate nodded slowly, "This town's been full of strange disappearances for years. I know of at least four disappearances in the last six months, five now with Martin. They all just disappear without a trace."

"Without a trace," Dean muttered. Clearing his throat, "Why, uh, why don't you let me walk you home? I can't have you disappearing on me and you're in no shape to drive," he flashed her an awkward smile.

Kate clicked her tongue and flashed him a dazzling smile through the greenish tint of her skin and the greasy sheen of sweat covering her face, "Are you hitting on me?"

Dean had the decency to look sheepish, "You're in a vulnerable place right now. Do I seem like the kind of guy who would take advantage of a woman in such a state?"

Kate threw her head back in a loud laugh, then leveled him with her golden brown eyes, "Absolutely."


	11. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Sam was frantically pacing the hotel room, pounding out text after text and dialing Dean's cell phone like a crazy person. For the 27th time he left Dean a message, "Dean! Where the hell are you man? I don't even know where to start looking. Fuck! Call back, now! Soon! Whatever!" For good measure he threw his phone across the room in a fit of anger and panic. Watching it smash to smithereens against the wall was an unfortunate repercussion. He raked his hands through his hair and spun drunkenly at the sound of pounding on the suite door, "Sam," Dean growled, "Open the fucking door! I forgot my key!"

Sam stumbled over his own feet to get to the door and ripped it open to stare down into Dean's bright, shining smiley face, "Where the hell have you been? I have been texting and calling. I have been out of my mind with worry."

Dean brushed passed his brother an incredulous look on his face, "Sorry, honey. I got held up at the office. My secretary decided she'd polish my knob before the end of the day. Now, bring me a beer and rub my feet, sweet cheeks," Dean threw his jacket down on the back of a chair. He fished around in his jeans for his cell phone, showing it to Sam, "Battery's dead, again. Fucking piece of crap," he looked around at the remains of Sam's phone scattered around the room, "I take it your cell's out of commission, too?" He laughed as he sat down in the chair. He raised his feet to Sam and waggled his eyebrows.

Sam smacked them down, "Jerk!"

Dean barked out a laugh, "Bitch! So what'd you find out from Old Mrs. Lily Putian?" Dean stood again and walked over to the mini-fridge and grabbed a beer, waggling one in Sam's direction.

Sam shook his head no, and sat at the small formica table, "You should meet Roger," Sam laughed. "Well, something interesting. Have ever heard of Harriet Hosmer?"

Dean leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. He took a swig of the beer, clearly thinking, "Yeah, I guess. The name's familiar."

Sam sat back in the chair, somewhat impressed that his brother had heard of the 19th century sculptress, "She was a sculptor. Pretty famous. Her biographers always list her as a single, childless woman. She had a daughter, gave her to friends to raise, and that daughter had a daughter. You'll never guess who the granddaughter is." Sam pulled his silver laptop towards him and cracked the lid waiting for Dean's response.

"Old Lady Dastardly Dog-Doo? Okay, family tree aside, what does this have to do with anything?" Dean pushed off the counter and walked over to the table to sit across from Sam.

"Dean that website you were on…did it happen to have a bunch of Asian chicks doing each other on it?" Sam spun his laptop around to show Dean the pictures that popped up as soon as he got on-line.

Dean laughed, "Got bored."

Sam heaved out a long suffering sigh, sometimes his brother…he rolled his eyes, "Anyway, that site you found. I didn't believe you because all documentation that I studied at school never said anything about her having children."

"Okay, but I still don't get where you're headed. I was with ya' on the cursed object thing back at Kate's office, but now this…what?" Dean quit talking as Sam's gaze snapped from the laptop to him, a suspicious look on his face.

"Kate?" Sam asked.

Dean looked at his beer, stood and went to the fridge to get another, cracking the top and taking a long, long draught, he said, "I ran into her earlier at that bar, Wobbles. She was…uh…upset. We've got something else to work on. It might be related."

Sam slammed his hands on either side of his laptop and whipped his head around to glare incredulously at Dean, "Something else? Dean, another hunt? Another hunt when we can't even figure out what's going on in the first place?" Sam squeezed his eyes shut pinching the bridge of his nose.

Dean ignored his brother's tirade, "Ask me how many mysterious disappearances have occurred in this town in the last six months? And then ask me how many mysterious disappearances have occurred in the last five years? And _then_ ask me how many have been found? And _then_ ask…"

Sam held up his hands in surrender, "All right. I give. What's up?"

"Five in the last six months, Sammy. Five disappearances. Right now we know of: Jimmy Caldwell and Martin Blankenship. Then there's Shelly Wright, Adam Rauber, and Marcia Karl. All just vanished without a trace. I think we need to talk to Officer Tony, Sam."

Sam's brow furrowed, he slowly sat back in his chair, long arms stretched out in front of him, wrists resting on the side of the table, "What do you mean, 'we all ready know about Jimmy Caldwell _and_ Martin Blankenship'? Who's Martin Blankenship?"

Dean turned away from Sam and gripped the edge of the counter. His suggestion to walk Kate home hadn't been to flirt with her, well, not _only_ to flirt with her. He wanted to get more information about the disappearances and about Martin. Dean really wanted to find Martin, worse than he wanted to solve this case, he wanted to wrap his hands around that bastard's throat and choke the life out of him. Slowly, Dean turned back around and cleared his throat, "Remember that assistant from earlier this morning? The one who interrupted us while we were talking to Kate…er…Doc Alex?"

Sam nodded his head, "Yeah. Doc Alex asked who was injured and the assistant said…uh…something Blan. Ken. Ship." Realization dawned on Sam as he said each syllable separately.

"Sam we're going to have a busy couple of days ahead, here. We need to talk to Officer Tony about the disappearances and go to the hospital-light and talk to this little girl…"

"Little girl? She's a little girl? Dean, we won't even be able to get in to see her without parental consent, no matter what sort of agency ID's we flash. Dean, come on. Let's finish the one hunt we've started and leave the human world to, well, the humans."

Dean crossed the small expanse of the kitchenette and pointed at the laptop, "I'm tellin' ya', Sammy, there's somethin' there. Just look up the other names. There's gotta be a connection somewhere. After you do that, suit up! It's law enforcement time. I'm taking a shower." Dean clapped Sam on his broad shoulders and for good big brother measure, slapped Sam on the back of the head.

Sam leaned forward and placed his head in his hands. He was always astounded at the one track mind of his brother, though he actually had 3 tracks: hunts, food, and sex, not necessarily in that order, and occasionally the 3 converged. He wasn't sure if he wanted there to be a connection with the disappearances and whatever was going on with Dean or not, in all honesty, he was voting for the 'not' category.

Dean whipped the bathroom door open, "NEXT! Come on, Sam, don't look at me like that. You need a shower! You stink like dog ass!" Dean had a towel wrapped around his head like a turban and one wrapped around his hips. Sam watched as his brother shimmied into the room and laughed as he realized Dean was humming, 'Walking on Sunshine.'

"You seem…better. No shower details required, man. Fine. Fine. We'll go talk to Officer Tony. I'm still on the fence about the little girl." Sam stood and headed for the bathroom and looked back in time to see Dean shoot him the moon, "Thanks man. Now I'm going to have to soak my eyes in bleach to get that image out of my head."

Dean barked out a laugh as the bathroom door slammed in his face.

Sam turned the shower on and jumped in without checking the temperature. BIG. MISTAKE.

"FUCK, DEAN!" Sam jumped away from the icicles shooting out of the shower head, grabbed the curtain and ended up yanking the curtain rod out of the wall, it landed with a clatter and another, "FUCK," as one end of the metal rod slammed into his big toe.

Sam stumbled out of the ice bath and looked around for a towel, knowing full well Dean wouldn't have left him one. And what do you know? No. Fucking. Towel. Shrugging his shoulders, "He asked for it," Sam said to himself.

Ripping the bathroom door open to see his brother still laughing Sam charged at him, "Asshole!" Caught in mid-laugh, Dean huffed out a puff of air as Sam dove into his mid-section and slammed the two of them into the bedroom wall.

"Jesus Christ, Sam!" Dean groaned. Using his foot as leverage, Dean pushed them away from the wall, causing them both men to spill awkwardly onto the corner of one of the beds, Sam on the bottom, Dean, conveniently, sitting on Sam's head. Quicker than Sam could react, Dean grabbed both of Sam's wrists, pinning them to the bed, "You might be sasquatch, but I can still kick your ass, you little bitch!"

Sam's muffled voice came from under Dean's suit clad thigh, "Zherk! Gerr awff mbee!"

Dean bounced off Sam's face, rubbing his butt once, twice, maybe three times, and for good measure he let off a spectacular fart right in Sam's mouth and nose. Dean stood and straightened his suit coat and tie and regarded Sam's naked, prone form with a scandalized expression, "Now, if you'd quit clowning around, could we get down to business? We're burning daylight here." Dean turned away from Sam, smirking as he walked into the kitchenette to pour himself a generous splash of one of his favorite three amigos.

Sam groaned and huffed wiping off Dean's fart in disgust, "Real mature, Dean, how old are you again? Man, you need to lay off the red meat. Your ass smells like a cow crawled up there and died. Dude, seriously." Sam begrudgingly struggled into his suit for the second time that day and raked his fingers through his long brown hair as he headed for the door. He reached for the doorknob and turned back to Dean, "And remember…paybacks are a bitch!"

* * *

><p>Somewhere that is nowhere of consequence to humans, a lone figure stood before a pool of shimmering silver liquid, arms folded across a chest laden in white gossamer folds that was neither fabric nor mist. Another figure approaches from behind and peers over the first's shoulder into the pool, "Ah, this again. What has you so transfixed? These," the second figure gestured an arm over the expanse of the pool, "<em>things<em> are beneath us and a waste of our time."

The first figure merely glanced out from beneath long lashes, "These humans are _not_ a waste of our time. These two are special. Especially," a delicate finger pointed into the depths of the silvery pool, "that one. He has a soul like no other I've watched and as you know, I've watched many."

The second replies, "Yes, I know of your voyeuristic proclivities, though I do not understand them. You know these humans hunt our kind? They should all be exterminated."

"They hunt us to protect their kind from those of us who would consume them, a terrible habit that I am afraid I find repugnant. Their kind at one time revered us and we, I should say, our kind, repaid them by making a meal of them. We should be exterminated. This one," the same delicate finger pointed at the pool again, "is different. He does what he has been taught but his soul is so luminescent, it shines brighter than this pool. Can you not see it? It torments me at how broken he thinks he is. He can fix what was broken. He just needs guidance."

"You wish to guide this heathen?" The second gave a disdainful harrumph, "Let it be on your decapitated head when your rabid pet turns on its master."


	12. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Looking around at what was laughably the Omer Town Police Station, Dean couldn't help but smirk and shake his head. He bowed his head and renewed his visual relationship with his hands as they laced one another and his thumbs warred at each other for top billing in his lap.

The police station was nothing more than another ranch style building, just like the hospital-light, as he'd come to refer to it. There didn't seem to be any building in this town more than a couple stories tall, Dean noticed. The lobby consisted of two wooden benches, of which Sam and Dean occupied one, a large oak table that doubled as the front desk, and a two tiered cart holding coffee and donuts.

Just as Dean stood to check out the state of staleness of one the powdered sugar covered pastries, a door to the right opened and Officer Tony appeared looking a lot less cheery than a Tasmanian Devil with rabies.

Sam and Dean each wiped sweaty palms on their thighs, stood, and extended right hands to be ignored by the scowling and suspicious Officer Tony. He glared at the out -stretched palms, then twitched his head in the direction of another door with **I-1** stenciled at the top.

Both men turned and raised eyebrows at each other and mirrored a grimace that read: We're fucked!

They stepped into **I-1 **and waited a beat for the cop to have a seat before they chose their individual seats.

Officer Tony Hanson looked to be older than Sam but younger than Dean. Dean had brief recall of their first meeting and Officer Tony saying something to the effect of growing up with Jimmy Caldwell, who was not even 20 years old. A stab of pain traveled behind his eyes forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut, Sam noticed and leaned in to whisper in Dean's ear, "You all right, man?"

Dean opened his eyes and gave Sam a scorching look, "Can it!" he growled.

Officer Tony leaned across the table, a full on only business no bullshit expression firmly in place, "Why didn't you identify yourselves as state police?"

Dean was squeezing the bridge of his nose, grimacing in pain, so Sam answered, "We're undercover, Officer Hanson. We're here to investigate the break-ins and now, it seems, there's a list of missing persons that seem to be intertwined with our investigation. Would you care to share with the rest of the class?"

It was Sam's turn to sit forward with the full on only business no bullshit expression.

Officer Tony sat back, slowly, a strange smile creeped across his thin lips, "Jimmy's not officially missing. He does this sometimes. Takes off on a bender for a week or two, has his momma all but ate up with worry. Ildra calls us every other day sometimes to check on her baby boy, nothing for you staties to get your panties in a twist over. What other "missing persons" are you referring to?"

Sam could almost see the quotation marks around "missing persons," he reached in his suit coat and retrieved a little note pad and flipped a few pages, "Shelly Wright – missing since March, vanished without a trace; Adam Rauber – missing since January, vanished without a trace; Marcia Karl – missing since May, vanished without a trace. And of course now we have Jimmy Caldwell, who you say isn't really missing and now a Martin Blankenship. That's an awful lot of _not _missing persons, Officer Hanson. Care to explain why there's little to no investigation into the whereabouts of the first three individuals I mentioned?"

Officer Tony rested his hands on the table lacing his fingers together, he leaned forward, a sneer on his face, "Ever hear the expression 'no humans involved', Undercover Officer Dee?"

Sam's eyebrows flew so high they almost disappeared into his hairline, "That's supposed to be an urban legend started in detective novels. No real law enforcement agency should be utilizing that terminology."

"Well, your missing persons were barely that… persons. And as far as I'm concerned they failed being human a long, long time ago. The unfortunate/fortunate disappearances of those individuals is no great loss to this community. Jimmy Caldwell is the only one that I might be remotely concerned about, remotely. And as far as Martin Blankenship, off the record, I hope he died bloody and his corpse is being ravaged by some of our local wildlife. I suggest you staties go dig for dirt in another town. Our backyards have been weeded out, can you say that for yours? Oh, and you might want to check on your boy there," Officer Tony nodded towards Dean, "he's not looking so swell. You can show yourselves out." The chair Officer Tony was seated in made a loud scraping sound as he pushed away from the table and left the room.

Sam turned his head to his brother whose face was covered in a greasy sheen and a crimson line was falling from his nose, "Dean, your nose is bleeding. Shit!" Sam stood, knocking over his chair, and gripped Dean's bicep, "Come on. We're going to the hospital."

Dean ripped his arm out of Sam's grip and wiped his nose staring at the crimson stain on his hand, "I'm fine. But, you're right. We do need to go to the hospital. Let me go wash up first. Sam, I'm fine. Go wait in the car, I'll be there in a minute."

Growling, Sam spun and stormed out of the police station. Dean wobbled, catching himself on the table, he bowed his head and shook his head from side to side. He was seeing black with a whole lot of white spots and the pain in his head felt like something was trying to burst free.

He managed to get himself to the only bathroom in the place and leaned against the sink. The porcelain felt cool to his hands making him think his head must be in flames if the porcelain felt like ice on his hands. Checking his reflection he noted no flames shooting out of his head, but a red smear under his nose and across his cheek made him grimace.

Dean turned the spigot on and a rush of cool water blasted into the sink. He closed his eyes to splash the water on his face. When he opened his eyes the sink was filled with a silvery liquid and a familiar tragedy was being played out before him; a voice made him spin around, reaching for his gun aiming it at the room of white nothingness.

"Dean Winchester, there is no need for such barbaric measures. I have no intention of bringing harm to you. Look into the pool. You recall this moment, yes?"

The gun was removed from his grasp, gently, and for the life of him he couldn't bring himself to fight off this, whatever. But, the whatever wasn't fighting him, just speaking in that weird crisp, ethereal voice.

Dean turned his head and peeked back into the silvery liquid, what he saw made his breath catch and heart clunk behind his ribs. He nodded, "Yeah. Unfortunately, this…" he pointed into the pool, "nightmares… yeah." He scrubbed his face and pushed himself away from the pool, "Who are you? Are…are you the reason behind these fucking headaches, and … and seizures… and now this…?" He wiped the blood from his nose and held his hand up to the white shadowed figure. He realized the figure hadn't revealed itself to him.

"I am sorry, Dean Winchester. The answers to your questions are much more complex than a simple yes or no. Except to say that, no, it was not me who gave you my…it was not me, Dean Winchester. I can help you, if you let me. That moment," a long slender finger pointed at the scene playing on a loop in the pool, "was to have changed your destiny."

"Ya know something? I am sick and tired of hearing about all this destiny crap! Especially from some monster or demony thing that I should have ventilated first thing! No, you send me back to my crappy life and my crappy destiny. And trust me when I say, if I find out who or…or what you are, I will gank your filmy white ass!"

Dean felt a sadness and resignation wash through him and he realized it wasn't his own, it was coming from the figure before him, "Dean Winchester, I wish for nothing more than to help you fix this moment. There is much that can be changed and you are the righteous man who was to have ended it. Do you not understand? It all went wrong in this moment. I have long watched you and your brother and I have suffered as you suffered. There is much that can be done and I can show you how. But, I will not and can not force you to accept my assistance. I will do as you ask and send you back. If you change your mind I will be honored to guide you."

Dean blinked and he was back in the bathroom of the police station, water running onto the floor from the over flowing sink, "Wait, you've watched… SON-OF-A-BITCH!" He jumped back from the sink, spinning around in an attack pose waiting for the figure in white to reappear.

* * *

><p>"I don't know, Sam," Dean snapped. After he'd returned from wherever to the bathroom, he'd hauled ass to the car and hopped behind the driver's seat, thankful that his brother wasn't going to argue the driving thing right now.<p>

"So, you went to the bathroom and were transported to somewhere where a figure spoke to you? Then what? Did you kill it?"

"It was kind of hard to kill the thing when, one: I couldn't see it. Two: It had my gun. Three: I… for some reason… I didn't want to. I was freaked, yeah, but I wasn't … I felt settled. Ya' know?"

"'Settled,' you mean peaceful? You felt peaceful? Okay, moving on. Well, what did this place look like?"

Dean was white knuckling the steering wheel, "It was white. Everything was white, like Casper's house. There was a pool in the middle of the courtyard," Courtyard? Where did that come from? Ignoring the weird slip, "The pool was filled with this silver stuff and you could like look in and watch…stuff." He waved off the last word like he was flicking a fly off his hand.

"Wow, Dean. That's really specific. If we're going to figure out what happened to you and what is continuing to happen to you, you gotta lose the cryptic, as you like to say."

"SAM! Sam, I don't know. I was in the middle of this courtyard and there were," Dean pictured the scene before him seeing it more clearly than he had when he'd been there, "there were other buildings. I could see their shapes behind the trees." There were trees? Dean pulled the Impala into a parking space in front of the hospital-light and slammed the gear shift in Park. He adjusted his position in the driver's seat so he could look at his brother, "Sam, I don't know. I'm really not trying to be cryptic here. I can't tell you something that I don't fucking know. Me and this chick were in the courtyard. The pool, though, the pool was…was, the all seeing eye. Where the hell is this coming from, Sam? What the hell is going on with me? Did I just say 'me and this chick'?" Shaking his head from side to side again, "All right, we've got a family to deceive, a scumbag to find and kill, and a town to save. Ready. Break!" Dean clapped his hands together and was out of the car before Sam could process all the words that had flown from his brother's mouth.

Sam felt like he was moving in slow motion as he watched his brother's highly animated form crash through the medical center's glass doors. He stopped and looked back at the car with a furrowed brow and then slowly turned and looked at the clinic or hospital-light, to use Dean's reference. He took another step towards the clinic and then turned again to face the town of Omer. Sam narrowed his green eyes and tried to find the thing that had been bugging him for awhile now. There was something familiar about this town, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"Sammy, ya' playin' freeze tag out there or what? Let's go, bro, let's go!" Dean yelled from the clinic doors.

Reluctantly, Sam turned and made the rest of the way to the clinic. He gave the town one last suspicious glance before entering the glass doors.


	13. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

Dean sidled right up to the receptionist's desk and flashed a dazzling smile at the pretty brunette, "Hey," familiarity made his smile broader and warmer, "Teresa, right? You work for Ka-er-uh Doc Alex, right?"

Teresa smiled, "Yeah, I do. You have me at a disadvantage though. You know my name but I don't recall yours?" Her smile was just as dazzling.

Dean reached inside his suit coat for his State Police ID and flashed it at the pretty receptionist, "Officer Dean Young and this is my partner Sam Dee. We need to speak with…with," he looked to Sam to rescue him as he couldn't recall the girl's name.

Sam toyed with the idea of letting his brother flounder as thoughts of the ice shower and wrestling match and the payback owed to Dean raced through his memory, but, this was neither the time nor the place. Sam reached in his suit coat and retrieved the little note pad. He made a spectacle of flipping the pages, as the hospital visit was still on his list of things NOT TO DO, but, "Uh, here it is. Margot Blankenship and her sister Merriam. Do they have a legal guardian that we need to speak with first?"

Teresa tilted her head to the side and clicked her tongue, "Getty and Mimi are under age. I know the law, officers. Their grandmother should be here within the hour. It seems that Mimi called her before she called the emergency line. She's flying in from Buffalo," Teresa looked at her watch, "actually her plane probably landed about twenty minutes ago. She should definitely be here soon."

Teresa smirked at Sam and he gave her a questioning look when his knees went out from beneath him, making him grab onto the counter for support. He glanced behind him and was surprisingly pleased to see Ivy smiling mischievously up at him, "Hey there Sam."

Sam found himself smiling stupidly down at her tiny frame, a blush coloring his face as he heard Dean chuckling from behind him, "Hey. Hey Ivy. What brings you here?"

The little red head pointed to a blue patch on her white scrubs, "Nursing student. I'm on a break from my rounds. Wanna grab a crappy cup of coffee with me?"

"Um, uh…pfff…," Sam glanced over at Dean who shrugged his shoulders , so basically no help was forthcoming from his older brother. "Yeah, sure. We're on official business but we're at a standstill right now. Officer Young? You will let me know when the grandmother arrives?"

Dean nodded and in a super-silly overly official voice, "Why yes, Officer Dee, I will do so." Rolling his eyes he turned back to the pretty brunette receptionist, smirking to himself. Dean decided a short chat with very alluring Teresa, was in order, "How do you do it?"

Teresa chuckled at the double entendre, "Exactly what is the 'it' you are referring to?"

Dean smiled brilliantly, "Two jobs. How do you manage them?"

"Doc Alex is cool. I'm full time with her and per diem here. She let us go early today because of…it's a small town ya' know? When shi-er-stuff, bad stuff happens we're all affected."

"I can understand that, I'm actually from a small town myself. So, Teresa, you notice anything strange going on in this town? Strange smells, like rotten eggs, or black smoke?"

"You certainly have a strange way of flirting Officer Young," she laughed and shook her head, "No, sir, nothing like that. I mean, people go missing from here more often, I think, than in other towns. But then again, I don't know. I was born and raised here. Actually, you might call that strange. The only newcomer to town's been Doc Alex, and that was what, five years ago, now? Everyone else has been born and bred here. No one moves away and no one moves here."

* * *

><p>Josie walked up the steps to her apartment, Gretchen's leash firmly in hand. She swore the dog was smiling and half skipping to get home, her new home. Josie was just tired and just a little sad, those poor Blankenship girls.<p>

As if sensing her mood, Gretchen stopped and sat on one of the steps. She put her ears back and let out a quiet whine. Josie sat down on the step above and wrapped her arms around the animal's neck, "Thanks girl. I'm sorry. It's just been one of those days. I don't have much for you in there. I'm going to have to go shopping, later. But, we can snuggle on the couch and watch crappy TV, how does that sound?"

In answer, Gretchen dragged her tongue up the side of Josie's face, soaking it.

"Blegh. Thanks, Gretchen," she laughed.

Just as she shut her door behind her and Gretchen someone knocked, "Jos it's Del."

Biting her bottom lip, she'd forgotten to check with him on the whole pets in the apartment thing. If worse came to worse she'd beg and bargain with Del. She'd tell him that Gretchen would be coming to work with her everyday, which she was, so she wasn't lying. Groaning, she opened the door, "Hey Del. What's up?" Her voice was too high and she feigned nonchalance by kicking her hip out just a touch too far and awkwardly settling her hand on her hip.

Del smirked, "Easy, Jos. I was coming to check on you. Why are you home so early? And who is this gorgeous creature?" Del knelt down to Gretchen and held his hand out for her to inspect. Gretchen must have approved because she moved forward and rested her head on Del's shoulder giving him a hug.

"Del, don't worry. She's a good dog. She's going to be coming to work with me, everyday. And…and she's really quiet. Please, don't make me take her back. She's been cooped up at the clinic for like EVER!"

Del kissed the side of Gretchen's face and looked up at Josie with a big grin, "Jos, relax, what's her name?"

Josie was a bit perplexed, "Uh, Gretchen. She's a … uh… Belgian Shepherd. She's out of puppy stage, she won't chew anything… Del…"

He stood, keeping a caressing hand on the dog's ear, "Josie, shut the fuck up. We're cool all right? I was just concerned when I saw you come home early, that's it." He reached a hand out to caress her cheek, but thought better of it and dropped his hand awkwardly to hang stupidly at his side.

She looked down at Gretchen, who was eating up the male's attention and gave Del a goofy smile, "Sorry. I forgot to ask this morning. It was a little crazy, as you know. What about the Thorpe's? They won't care that I have a big dog here? How are you going to smooth it over with them?" Josie was still worried that Gretchen was going to get taken away from her so she was babbling.

Del threw his head back, laughing, "Josie, they trust me to run this place. Actually, they're letting me buy it. They're sick of their vacations getting ruined by me calling with some emergency and their approval for this, that, or the other thing. They're giving me a hell of a deal on the place. So, what I say goes, babe. Gretchen can stay for as long as you stay." This time he did run his thumb down her cheek and across her lips.

Josie reached up and grabbed his hand and held it firmly, mere inches from the burning trail he'd left down her cheek, "Del," her voice was breathy, but all she could do was shake her head.

"I know babe. It's all about Gary now. I know." With a tremendous effort he dragged his hand away, gave Gretchen one last pat and turned to leave when a fist flew at him and caught him under his left eye, "Fuck! What is your damage, man?"

Gary had snuck up behind Del and saw how he'd touched Josie. He couldn't help the sucker punch, the bastard deserved it, "That's my bitch! That's my damage!"

"What did you just say…" Left Del's mouth as Josie yelled, "What did you just call me?"

Gretchen growled as the two men started a full on brawl.

Gary grabbed Del around the waist and tossed him inside the apartment. Both men crashed into shin-digger flattening it along with the knick-knacks. Del boxed Gary's ears, then tossed him off his body, leaving him to sprawl half on the couch. Del grabbed Gary by the shirt and hauled him up and landed two good punches to Gary's face before Gary landed a half-assed kick to Del's nuts. It was enough of a jolt, though, to send him back almost knocking into Josie.

Gary stood and raced over to Josie and grabbed her bicep in a vice like grip, "Get your shit! You're moving out of this fucking hole, today. And you're ditching the mutt!" He shoved her, hard, down the hallway to her bedroom.

She spun on him, "What the hell, Gary? I'm not moving, I'm not ditching Gretchen, and you're not going to put your hands on me again! Get the fuck out!" Tears threatened to spill down her cheeks, but she refused to let them, not now. Later, much later.

Gary took two giant steps towards her and back handed her across her cheek, sending her into the corner of the hall and living room. She smashed her face into the molding and ricocheted landing on her ass against the other wall. Gretchen ran over and sat across Josie's outstretched legs, growling at Gary.

Gary went to land a kick in Gretchen's ribs when Del grabbed Gary by the shoulders and hauled him back, "Dude you need to chill the fuck out and get the fuck out! This is private property and you are trespassing!" Del put himself between Gary and Josie with Gretchen still growling her disapproval at Gary's behavior.

Gary made to leave, "You can have the stupid cunt anyway. Lame in the sack. She's nothing! Always was and always will be!" He ripped the door open as Del turned away from him to check on Josie.

Gretchen changed her position, she was now standing protectively over Josie, barking towards the door. Del turned in time to see Gary pull a gun and shoot. Del threw his body over Josie and Gretchen, using his own body as a shield.

Del waited for the bite of the bullet but when it didn't come he turned and saw Gary surrounded by a golden light, his face contorted in a silent scream of agony. Simultaneously, Del tipped his head to the side and nodded, he looked down at Josie and Gretchen and smiled, "Yes. Yes! For fuck's sake, I said Yes! Always."

The light faded and Gary vanished with it. Del turned back to Josie and Gretchen, he reached out and caressed the canine's ebony muzzle, "You okay girl? You did a great job!" He then turned his full attention to Josie, "Hey, babe, you okay?" He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Josie bit her bottom lip and nodded, tears spilling from her crystalline green eyes that had darkened from her fear, "You said yes, Del. I heard you say yes."

Del scooted Gretchen off Josie's lap, he scooped her up in his arms and settled them on the couch. He kicked at the ruined coffee table and adjusted Josie in his lap. When she made to get off his lap, he wrapped his arms around her waist, "Where do you think you're going? Of course I said yes, babe. Whatever or whoever that was…wait, how do you know what it said?" He stroked her neck and back and then reached up and pulled the scrunchy from her hair and massaged the spot on her head where the pony tail had rested.

She looked down, not wanting Del to see her spill more tears, "Because I was asked, too. When I first got to work this morning, I thought that, whatever, was trying to hurt the animals and I was going to protect them with my last breath." She lifted her eyes to Del, searching his blue eyes, "You said yes, Del. Why?"

Del cupped her face and pulled her into a sizzling kiss that took her breath away. His tongue snaked between her lips, teasing her tongue and scraping across the roof of her mouth. He laughed at her whimper as he withdrew from the kiss, "That's why, Josie."

* * *

><p>Sam stood, "Thanks for the coffee, Ivy. I'd better go check on my partner." He stuck his hand out for her to shake.<p>

Ivy slapped his hand away, making a huffing noise. She stood on her chair and planted a kiss on Sam's cheek, "You're like Goliath or something!" She hopped off the chair and held her hand out.

Sam looked perplexed and went to shake her hand and she slapped it away again, "Phone dummy! God, when was the last time you got a chick's number?"

Sam fumbled in his jacket for his cell phone and before he had a chance to ask her for her information, Ivy snatched it from his hands and clicked, typed, and scrolled like her fingers were on fire. She slammed the phone back in his chest, "I expect a call later tonight."

Sam laughed and shook his head at the saucy little red head walking away, swaying her small hips seductively.

Sam found Dean still chatting up Teresa and was about to approach when Dean smiled at the receptionist and said, "Thanks, Teresa. Hey, Sammy," he clapped his brother on the shoulder and moved them away from the receptionist's desk. "Let's take a walk over here and let me fill you in on the interesting town of Omer.


	14. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

"So, what you're saying is that no one moves in or out of the town? What do you think a coven of witches put a spell on the town, maybe?" Sam and Dean were standing by the glass doors of the clinic and Sam's interest was more than mildly piqued at Dean's information.

Dean shook his head, "I don't know, Sammy. But, Teresa said that the only person to move here in the last 5 years is Ka-Doc Alex. All the disappearances started about that time. I don't know. We need to do some more snooping around."

Sam laughed, "Dean, you can call her Kate…"

Before Sam could finish his thought a tornado in the shape of a small older woman pushed passed them, "Out of my way fella's." Stopping she looked up at Sam, "What, do you put Miracle Gro in your morning coffee?" She spun and marched straight up to Teresa, "I'm here to collect my granddaughters, Margot and Merriam Hix."

Teresa, obviously flustered, "Uh, we…we-uh admitted Gett-er, Margot Blankenship…"

The small woman banged a fist on the counter making Teresa jump in her seat, "I'm gonna be fixin' that straight away. Blankenship's the bastard's name. Those girls are gonna have a strong normal name. Hix it is from this point forward. Now, quit your stammering and get me to my babies."

Dean and Sam had moved across the lobby to stand almost directly behind the small woman. Teresa pointed down the hall, "Room 312. It's a private room."

The woman spun and bounced off Sam's chest. She looked up at with shrewd brown eyes, lips set, "Out of my way you Wookie Wannabe." She pushed through the two men waving her hands in the air in an over-exasperated fashion.

Sam looked at Dean, "Wookie Wannabe?"

Dean just shrugged his shoulders, but both men turned when the woman yelled, "Star Wars reference. Rent a movie, for christ's sake!"

Sam and Dean followed the woman down the hall and watched her disappear into the small private room.

Dean looked at Sam and smirked, "You notice the t-shirt? Motley Crue? Now that's what I call a grandma!" Dean threw his head back in a hearty laugh.

Sam couldn't help but to join in Dean's mirth. That woman was a character that was for sure.

Dean looked at Sam and gave him a poke and point to head in the room. Sam shook his head no and pursed his lips and pointed with his head for Dean to go first. Their silent argument ended in a silent scuffle of each of them shoving and wrestling in the hall.

A harsh clearing of the throat brought the two silently arguing men to a standstill. The sight of a 5 foot tall, 125 pound elderly woman staring up at them with arms crossed over her chest and tapping her foot made both men stand at attention and feel 2 inches tall.

"So, Stretch, Mini-Me, what can I do for you?"

Dean had a good foot on the woman but he blanched at being referred to as Mini-Me, "We'd like to talk to your granddaughters about the disappearance of their father."

Sam was blushing like an idiot and trying to avoid looking at the woman with the X-ray eyes.

Huffing and cracking her knuckles the woman stepped into the men's collective personal spaces, she pointed a gnarled finger up at them swinging from one to the other, "Give me ten minutes with my girls and not a single peep shall be heard from either of you. Do you understand me?"

Both men nodded and said in unison, "Yes ma'am." They bowed their heads and headed back to the hall to wait, she closed the door behind them with a definitive click. They each took a seat in the plastic chairs obviously rejected from the local elementary school.

Neither man so much as cleared their throats while waiting for approval to speak with the girls.

Not sure at how much time had passed they both looked up when the door was unceremoniously ripped open and the small woman stood sentry in the doorway, "Are you waiting for an engraved invitation? I said ten minutes. Short Stack you're in here with the girls, Grumpy Pale Giant, you're out here with me." Pointing in Dean's face before he had a chance to stand and giving him a piercing stare, "You upset my girls and I'll have your nuts for earrings. Now nod your head and say, 'yes ma'am'."

Dean's Adam's apple worked over time as he nodded and croaked, "Ye-yes ma'am."

Dean slowly stood, wiping sweaty palms on his suit pants, images of his nuts dangling from the woman's ears filled his head as he had no doubts that she would make good on her threat. A transient thought of how many male genitalia accessories this woman had sent a heeby jeeby shiver through him. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw Sam stiffen as the woman settled in the chair Dean had just vacated.

Before he walked in the little girl's room he heard her introduce herself to Sam, thankful the tornado with iron gray hair and chocolate brown eyes couldn't see his smirk, "I'm Mabeline, pronounced –line _not _-leen. Mabeline Dorothea Hix. Most people call me Gramma Dot. You can call me Mrs. Hix."

Dean approached the girl's bed, she was facing away from the door, eyelids closed. The other little girl was curled up in the bed next her sister, but hopped off the bed as soon as she saw Dean. A smile lit up her face and she held a tiny hand out to him, "Hi. I'm Mimi. That's Getty. Sit down, won't you?" Her voice was tiny and more childlike than her short ten year life, but her grip was strong as Dean engulfed hers shaking it in greeting.

Smiling down at the little girl Dean introduced himself, "I'm Officer Young. You can call me Dean if you like."

Mimi led him to the chair on the opposite side of the bed and pushed him down. Without asking or volunteering that she was going to do it, Mimi hopped up in his lap and curled herself up in a ball. She nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck and wrapped her thin arms around his shoulders.

Feeling more than slightly awkward and inappropriate, Dean held his arms out to the sides in a poor imitation of "jazz hands". He gave the girl a half pat on the head, "Uh, Mimi? I don't think this is appropriate. I really don't think your grandmother would approve of you on a stranger's lap."

Mimi just snuggled in deeper and sighed, "You smell like warm sunshine and you glow. You won't hurt me or my sister. Just like that light. You glow just like that light that took Martin."

"Mimi," a raw dead voice chastised the little girl.

Dean looked up and saw that Margot had opened her eyes, his breath caught in his throat. He hadn't looked at the older girl yet and a new wave of murderous anger and nausea bubbled in his gut. Margot had bruises on both sides of her face and swelling distorted her features. She'd probably have a small scar near her right eye, but Dean could tell that she and Mimi were mirror images of each other and that both girls were going to be knock outs as adults. He noticed bruises on Margot's arms and ligature marks on both wrists. She also had bruises on her neck, finger marks, Dean noted. Son-of-a-bitch, Dean thought to himself.

Dean leaned forward in his chair, with little Mimi still clinging to him, "Margot, I'm Officer Young. I'm here to find out what happened to your dad."

A storm settled in Margot's chocolate brown eyes, "He was NOT my dad! He provided enough sperm to my mother to produce me and Merriam! Do NOT ever use the term 'dad' when referring to that scumbag." Anger seemed to be the only emotion Margot had and for now that would help her cope, Dean thought.

Dean held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, "Sorry, Margot. My partner and I are here to investigate some strange things going on here. And Martin's disappearance is one of those strange things. Care to fill me in."

Mimi stirred in Dean's lap and pulled away from him to look him in the eye. She cupped his face in her tiny hands so he had no choice but to look at her, "Don't you mean your brother? Isn't that really tall man your brother? He doesn't glow like you and he smells like stinky eggs."

Dean's brow furrowed at the little girl's revelation but before he could question her, Margot croaked, "Mimi just knows stuff about people. It's hard to keep secrets from her. Look, Officer Young, Martin's gone. You'll think I'm fu-er-crazy if I tell you what I thought I saw. But, Martin's gone for good and good riddance."

Dean watched as a tear slipped from one of her chocolate brown eyes, "Margot, I want to find him and…and take care of him. Tell me what you thought you saw and I promise I won't think you're nuts." Dean's voice was a growl as he was trying to keep his temper in check.

Mimi's tiny voice filled the silence, "I told you. The pretty light took him. He didn't look happy about it though. He looked like it was hurting him. Then the light got really bright like…like the sun and then Martin was gone. Poof!"

Dean's gaze drifted from Margot to Mimi back to Margot, he watched as the older girl swallowed, hard. She turned away from Dean and Mimi and leaned over the opposite side of the bed and vomited. Dean panicked and made to stand to go get the grandmother, but Mimi shook her head, "She'll make you leave. Stay for just a few more minutes. Getty'll be okay. Please, stay."

Dean patted the little girl on the back, "Okay. I'm here, honey. I'm not going anywhere just yet." Dean leaned forward and grabbed the plastic pitcher and poured a cup of water and handed it to Margot.

She accepted the cup of water gratefully, took a few sips and stared into its shallow depths, "Mimi's right. I thought it was because I was dying, the light at the end of the tunnel or whatever. But, this golden light surrounded us. When Martin was," her throat started working over time again and she took some deep breaths to steady the bile rising in her throat, "anyway, then a voice started asking me questions and then Martin was just…gone."

"Questions? What kind of questions?" Dean asked scooting to the end of his chair, careful not to dislodge the little girl, whose weight he'd become uncomfortably comfortable with.

Margot shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. Like, do I love my sister and would I protect her no matter what for the rest of my life? Would I give up my life for hers?" Margot laughed at that one, "Since I was dying at the moment I thought that was a pretty stupid question. I guess I got a perfect score because I'm still here and Martin's a scorch mark on the living room floor."

"Time's up!" Gramma Dot announced making the three of them jump.

Sam stood behind the small woman looking smaller than his 6'4" frame, he looked pale and beaten down, Dean dropped his head and smirked at the floor.

Mimi leaned up and whispered in Dean's ear, "It's calling to you. It's time you listened." She planted a quick kiss on his cheek and hopped off his lap and back on her sister's bed.

Dean knew the look he had on his face was one of disbelief and confusion. He stood slowly and before he knew what he was doing he approached Margot's bed. He gave Mimi's head an affectionate pat and leaned in and gently kissed Margot's forehead. He heard Mimi giggle as he kissed the top of her head and walked out of the room in a daze.

In a fog he heard the muffled sounds of Gramma Dot fussing at the girls and more clearly he heard Mimi's tiny voice, "Grammy, what's Buffalo like?"

Dean grabbed Sam's bicep yanking him around to face him, "I know what we have to do."

Sam nodded his head urging Dean to continue, "Okay? Care to share?"

Dean nodded, eyes staring in a far off place, "We've got to go."

Sam started walking towards the glass doors, "Good, that Gramma Dot is something. She freaked me the hell out. And, I've got some info from Ivy we need to talk about. You learn anything from the girls? Dean. Dean?" Sam stopped walking as he realized Dean wasn't with him. He was still frozen to the same spot staring off into space. Sam walked back and shook Dean by the shoulders, "Dean, snap out of it!"

Dean's brain came back on line and he blinked his green eyes in quick succession, "We gotta go, Sam."

"Yeah, man, you said that."

Dean slapped Sam on the arm, "We gotta go. Dad's storage unit. We were on the right track before. Damn! Come on slow poke!" Dean had jogged ahead and was holding non-automatic door open waiting for Sam.


	15. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

**A/N I realized a boo-boo I made in a recent chapter, but rather than fixing the boo-boo, I wrote it into this chapter. There's a longer standing error that I've been aware of and have been struggling how to handle it...plot device! For those who've noticed and have been irritated, I apologize...For those who haven't noticed I apologize for bringing it to your attention. **

* * *

><p>"YOU BROUGHT HIM HERE!" The taller figure thundered.<p>

"He has been brought here many times. You have no cause for such anger." The smaller figure circled the silver pool regarding the taller with disdain.

"I have no cause. I have no cause, you say. He remembers being here. Not only does he remember, he saw and he's remembering what he saw."

The smaller figure moved away from the silver pool, turning a stubborn back to the other figure, "It is my intention for him to remember and it is my intention for him to see. He's dying and it's our fault. He must accept my guidance. It's the only way to save him."

"Why do you want to save that barbarian who drew his weapon on you without provocation? Why do you care so much for that _thing_?"

The smaller figure turned and regarded the other with a sad smile, shrugging shoulders, "He is special. This world is desperately lacking in such humanity in a single soul."

"You cannot save him without the council's approval and I will not stand at your side. I will not help you plead your case. This is a futile attempt to do what? Stroke your ego or do you, dear sister, wish to stroke something of his? " the taller figure laughed and shook his head in derision.

The smaller figure spun, the air crackling and sizzling dangerously, "Do not forget with whom you are speaking. I am much older than you and this is _my_ arena. The council is here because I allow them to remain. They hold no sway over my decisions. They take directive from me, dear brother. Do not ever mistake my kindness for weakness. I believe I have been too lenient with you of late," she cocked her head to the side, raised her hands out before her, electricity sizzling then exploding from long, slender fingers.

The taller figure raised his hands in a defensive posture, "No. NO!" The force of the electricity sizzled through his form, sending him flying backwards to crash into the side of the silver pool. His body convulsed and screams of agony rent the still air.

The female figure continued her onslaught as she approached her brother's prone, but still conscious form. Smoke was billowing from the male's mouth, his skin was blackened in some areas.

Once satisfied she'd made her point, the female raised her hands and closed her fingers into small fists to stem the flow of electricity. She closed her electric blue eyes and took some slow, deep, steadying breaths. She knelt down and caressed her brother's blackened and blistered cheek, "You don't know how it pains me to remind you of your station. Hopefully, this will be the last for a long, long while."

The male nodded, closing his eyes, and swallowing with difficulty.

"I am glad we understand one another," she stood, stepping over her brother's broken body, and leaned over the pool again, a look of concern flashed across her face as she watched a scene play out.

She knew by the gesticulations and the instrument in his hand he was leaving. Despair consumed her as she turned and leaned against the pool. He had to return if she was going to save him, otherwise he was going to die, more than that, he'd be lost. A single tear, something in all her millennia of existence she'd never shed for the humans, made a silvery trail down her cheek. Impatiently she went to wipe the small drop away; she gazed at the crystal drop at the tip of her finger. On impulse, she turned back to the pool and flicked the tear into the silvery depths. She watched as the pool bubbled causing the scene to distort briefly, but in short order the liquid became still again.

She longed to touch him, to caress his cheek, to allay his fears. Sighing, she settled for mimicking the act, without touching the silver liquid, she brushed the knuckle of her forefinger along the line of his jaw.

* * *

><p>Sam watched as Dean was gesticulating wildly, his cell phone in one hand and car keys in the other. He was talking quickly about going to John's storage unit when a buzzing sound made him stop and look at the hand holding the cell phone, a knowing grin creeped across Dean's face as he tossed the phone at Sam, "Avon calling."<p>

Sam caught the phone awkwardly juggling it in his hands and finally settling it he looked at the name: IVLeague. Crap, Dean wasn't dumb. Crap! He was blushing. CRAP! He scrolled through the message and coughed at the explicit text. He quickly sent a reply then deleted the original message so that any crap Dean was going to give him did NOT include intel from the text! Dean could be merciless when it came to teasing Sam about girls. They were adults and Dean still teased him like they were teen-agers.

"Since when does Kinky Bell have my cell number?" Something tickled the side of his face and Dean reached up and slapped his own cheek

Sam laughed, "You all right, man?"

"Bug or something crawling on my face."

Sam grimaced, as he moved his gaze from Dean's smirk back to the cell phone in his hand, "Well, at the hospital, she snagged the phone out of my hand. There's no place in town to get a new phone and mine's … uh… out of service," he laughed recalling his overreaction to Dean's MIA status earlier or yesterday? Come to think of it, they'd been in this town for a long time, haven't they?

Dean clearing his throat brought Sam back around, "So, what do you think? Hittin' up the storage unit? There's something there Sam that we need, I think. No, I'm su… I know!"

"Dean it's not like you to abandon a hunt in the middle of…well, a hunt. You've been through a lot in the last few… hours? Hey, Dean, how long do you think we've been here?"

Dean stopped his pacing and looked at Sam, "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Change the subject?"

"Dean, I'm not changing the subject. Just think about it. How long have we been here?"

Dean wiped his thumb and forefinger down the corners of his mouth, placed both hands on his hips and started pacing again, "Uh…we had breakfast at Eat Inn, I made like a 6.4 Earthquake, woke up in the hospital-light this morning and here we are. What?"

Sam gave Dean a searching look, as if he was purposely being evasive, "You don't think it's been a really long day? I mean…" the buzzing of Dean's cell phone cut off his thought process, he pulled the phone towards him with a grimace dreading the name on the Caller ID. It was Sam's turn to smile broadly and give his brother a lascivious smile as he tossed the phone at Dean, "It's all you man."

Dean snagged the phone a touch more gracefully than Sam's juggling routine, he looked at the screen and a private smile played across his lips as he thumbed the SND button, "Hey, Kate. Everything all right?" Dean turned his back on Sam for some mock privacy, "Well, my bro-uh-partner and I are going to be heading out later. Our investigation's gonna take us out of town for a day or two. Kate. Kate? Shit. KATE!"

Sam approached Dean, "She okay?"

Dean spun, still staring at his phone, "I don't know. She sounded scared and then I heard a…a scuffle. What? It's a word." He saw Sam's eyebrows raise and the smirk on his lips as he uttered the word 'scuffle.'

"Yeah. I know it's a word, Dean. But, not a word you use…ever!"

"Shut up. We're going to check on her. Saddle up, partner!" Dean headed for the door, grabbed his jacket, took a step back and walked back into the main part of the suite they shared. When he came back he was tucking something into the inside pocket of his jacket, "All set, Sammy?"

Sam shook his head back and forth, "Nah, you go man. There's something familiar about this town. I'm going to take a walk and see something…something. I don't know, dig a little deeper into the history of this place, I guess. Dean, you'd better fly, man, what if she's hurt? Dean, you're the one with the crazies in your brain, I'll be fine. Call me…oh, yeah," Sam ran his hands through his long hair and rubbed the back of his neck, "Uh, I guess you take your phone and call me here if you need anything. I guess. I promise we'll head out for the storage unit as soon as you're ready."

Dean squeezed the bridge of his nose and nodded his head, "Okay. Okay," on the way out the door Dean pointed at Sam, "You'd better watch your ass."

Sam followed Dean out the door and watched as he turned the Impala right out of the parking lot heading away from town. Sam, in no real hurry, strolled easily down the walkway and at the front of the hotel he looked both ways headed left into the main part of town.

He hadn't walked far when he found the bar Dean had mentioned before. A little further on was a park separating the flow of traffic, in the middle of the street, sort of.

Sam stepped off the curb and waited for a minivan, a late model VW Beetle, and a mom out with her infant twins in one of those jogging strollers. Sam jogged over to the park and walked around. Everything looked okay, normal. There were benches around the perimeter and the well manicured grass was bordered by a brick walkway. Sam walked across the lawn where a large, white pavilion stood. Looking around Sam figured the pavilion was in the middle of the park. He strode up the steps and took in the town from this vantage point.

Only the main street, north and south, intersected, well, circumscribed the park. There was nothing remarkable Sam could see, but there was something…something. Now he was starting to feel like Dean, not being able to think clearly.

He jogged down the other set of pavilion steps and crossed to the other side of the street, feeling like he'd just wasted his time but, something made him stop and turn back to look at the park. When nothing happened Sam started to turn away in frustration and irritation, but what was that? Sam snapped his head back and watched the park again, his eyes scanning, searching. Sam's heart leapt and he took a step back as he watched the park shimmer like heat off a pavement or a mirage.

Sam automatically reached in his jacket pocket for his cell phone to call Dean and then began patting himself down before he remembered he had no phone, "Fuck! Shit!" He doubled timed it back to the hotel.

* * *

><p>Dean pulled up to Kate's house, slammed the Impala into Park, checked his gun for ammo and clicked off the safety. He ran to the front door and barreled inside without knocking.<p>

Kate screamed, "Dean!"

He was flung back into the door, unable to move.


	16. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

**A/N Okey dokey...here we go... sex! The next couple of chapters will contain sex...gratuitous? Maybe...maybe not! Everything in Supernatural happens for a reason!**

* * *

><p>Sam burst through the door of the suite barely using the key, possibly breaking it off in the lock, but he couldn't be sure. He did vaguely hear a cracking of wood as he crashed through the door, but his mind was focused on calling Dean and getting them the hell out of this town.<p>

He half ran over to the phone on the bedside table and punched in his brother's number. The high pitched tone and the automated operator telling Sam the number could not be completed as dialed had him seriously considering throwing the phone against the nearest wall. Taking several long slow breaths to calm his nerves, Sam depressed the receiver button to silence the dial tone and after balling his hands into fists, he slowly and methodically dialed Dean's number a second time.

"Fuck!" Sam spat as Dean's voicemail picked up, "Dean, don't bother calling back. Just get the fuck back here. We've got to leave. NOW!" Sam slammed the handset back on the cradle, he stared at the phone willing it to ring. After several long seconds, Sam picked up the handset again and began dialing every number Dean had.

Voicemail!

Voicemail!

VOICEMAIL!

"FUCK! DEAN! We need to leave. Get your ass back here, man! There's more to this than what we know or don't fucking know! Dean!" He slammed the phone down a little harder than he intended and saw the beige casing crack.

Sam's head whipped around at the sound of someone knocking on the suite door. Relief flooded him as he ran to the door and whipped it open, "Dean, thank god!" Sam stumbled away from the small figure standing in the door, slamming into the room divider.

"Well, there's a greeting that'll make a girl's heart go pitter pat," Ivy moved into the room with two large plastic bags heavy with take-out boxes.

Sam leaned out the still opened suite door and looked around the parking lot, hoping for a glimpse of familiar headlights or the comforting rumble of the Impala's engine. When neither sense was stimulated, Sam felt a familiar note of panic hum through his veins. Crap!

He closed the door slowly, eyeing Ivy suspiciously. He took two long careful strides across the room to stand behind the tiny female as she laid out the smorgasbord of diner food on the table in the kitchenette.

Ivy jumped back and shoved the table about two feet back as she turned to start telling him what she'd brought. She hadn't heard Sam creep up behind her, "Creeper! Christ, give a girl some warning if you're going to stalk her. I about peed my pants. What is your deal? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Sam took a couple of deep inhales through his nose trying to scent an odor of sulfur. Instead, his olfactory senses were assaulted by her female scent and he had to get back on the demon thought train rather than where his thoughts were suddenly heading.

Shaking his head to clear his mind he looked at Ivy again. His eyes taking in her body trying to make it shimmer like the pavilion at the park. In a quick motion he reached out and gripped both of Ivy's shoulders and gave her a good shake, "Hey! What the fuck, Sam?"

Sam then placed his hands underneath Ivy's arms, in the space beneath her shoulders, and picked her up like a parent would their child. Ivy began thrashing in his grip and landed a good kick in his right knee, "Sam! Put. Me. Down! I swear I will kick you in your nuts and I've got great aim! PUT ME DOWN!"

Sam dropped Ivy as she landed another good kick to his left knee, "Ow! All right! All right!" He put his hands up in surrender, but couldn't keep himself from poking her in the shoulder once she righted herself from the awkward position she'd landed; half on the table with one leg still kicking and making contact with Sam's thigh, dangerously close to his zipper, the other leg hanging limply about two inches off the ground.

Sam muttered under his breath, "She's real. So the people are real and the town's not? How can that be?" Sam scrubbed his hand through his long brown hair then down his face. He extended his finger and poked Ivy a second time.

She slipped off the table as his finger made contact with her shoulder. Quicker than he picked her up, Ivy grabbed his long index finger and had it bent back, hyperextending his wrist, straining all the muscles, bones, ligaments and other sensitive tissues. Sam responded with a resounding howl and dropped harshly to his knees to try and alleviate the strain.

Ivy leaned down in his grimacing face, "What. The. Fuck? Seriously, Sam." Exasperated she released his finger and pushed away from him causing him to lose his balance and fall backward to smack his head on the kitchenette cabinets and landing on his elbows.

"Sorry, Ivy. Ivy. I…uh.." I was trying to see if you were real or Memorex just didn't seem to make a whole lot of sense right now so instead, "I've had a really long day and I'm worried about my brother. Ivy, I'm sorry."

She crossed her arms over her chest and kicked her hip out, clicking her tongue at him, "Brother? I thought you guys were partners. I thought maybe you were partners in every sense of the word the way you fuss over him so much. Now, are you hungry because that shit's getting cold and it sucks when it's reheated."

Sam grimaced at his error being thrown back in his face, "Yeah. We're brothers and we were partnered on this by mistake. Sort of like the Sole Survivor Policy. Law enforcement doesn't like to put relatives together in case of disaster. You know like the Sullivans? It's a great story…" Sam realized he was rambling, what was it about this girl that made him so nervous? Perhaps it was her miniscule black shorts that hugged her firm ass, or the green halter top that was held in place by only two small pearl buttons at the back of her neck and one little silver buckle at the small of her back. Could it be her chocolate brown doe eyes that seemed much more mature than her 22 years belied?

She wasn't Sam's type for the most part, but he couldn't deny there was something beguiling about her and her short red hair and freckles and smart ass mouth.

"You do realize you tend to spout facts and ramble when you're caught in a mosh, right?" Ivy was licking something off her finger as she turned to see Sam still sitting on the floor watching her, "What?" She smiled at him, "You look dumb struck and you don't strike me as dumb, a little grumpy at times and wound really tight. I think I might be able to help you with that, maybe."

Ivy moved across the room towards Sam. She planted each of her feet on either side of his long outstretched legs, she started to bend at the knees to settle on his lap, but he held up a hand, "Stop."

She tossed her hands in the air as she bolted back up, "See! That's what I'm talking about…Fu…" Sam reached up and clapped his hand over her mouth, stopping her tirade, "Ivy, shut up!" He moved his hand off her mouth and slid it behind her neck and manipulated those two pesky plastic pearl buttons holding the green halter in place. His other hand snaked around her waist and slid down to cup her ass in his large hand, pulling her forward so he could nuzzle his face in between her legs.

Ivy was stunned at Sam's sudden change in demeanor. No longer was he the Thinker made manifest, he was now a man of decisive sensual action and she was so _not_ complaining. He had deftly unhooked her halter and was doing something so lascivious with his mouth that it made her breath hitch and she let out a soft moan.

Sam ran his tongue up the inside of her thigh, moaning at the taste and feel of her silky smooth skin on his tongue. He skimmed his index finger up the inside of her other thigh to the seam of her tiny black shorts. Slipping his finger beneath the soft cotton another groan escaped at the feel of only a fraction of her slick wet folds.

Ivy's head kicked back at the feel of Sam's finger sliding along the outside of her very sensitive pussy. She thrust her hips forward and heard him chuckle at her eagerness. While his tongue and finger were busy teasing her sex his other hand was caressing and worrying the pert little nubs of her breasts now peaked with arousal. Her legs were starting to shake and she was starting to feel dizzy.

Sensing her imbalance, Sam reached for one of her hands and placed it on the counter lip he was propped against. Satisfied that she was now stable, Sam let go of the last of his control and had her shorts off her with the loss of only one button. He sat back roughly as he took in her barely there g-string, "Why even bother?" he groaned. The g-string was only 3 miniscule strings of white with a sheer and lace butterfly covering her bare mound.

Ivy gripped the counter with her other hand as soon as she felt Sam's tongue slide through her sodden folds. Suddenly her tiny g-string just felt like way too many clothes and she wanted it off. Tentatively she snaked a hand through one of the strings and started to push it down. Sam, taking her cue, helped her pull one leg out of the soaking sorry excuse for panties. She could figure out the rest, he thought, as he went back to lapping at her swollen sex.

She thrust her hips towards his face and Sam reached up and cupped the firm globes of her ass as he sucked her hardened clit into his mouth. Ivy screamed reaching down and gripped the back of Sam's head, entwining her fingers in his hair. Releasing her clit Sam swept his tongue to her entrance and thrust with one long stroke tasting her sweet musky nectar, groaning at her unique flavor.

The vibration of his groan against her, the softness of his tongue, and the sandpaper like quality to his whiskered face caused an overload of sensations through her quivering body. Ivy felt the first exquisite sensations of orgasm start rolling through her body, "Sam, fuck me, please!"

She tried pulling away from his sinful mouth and tongue but he held her firmly in place. The next nip of her clit and another sweep through her folds pushed her over the edge. Her knees buckled but, Sam's strong arms held her up as the spasms struck her. She screamed as her pussy clenched and throbbed around Sam's tongue. She screamed her release until her throat was raw and still she continued to come. Her body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat, her body was bent back so that Sam was supporting her by holding his hands underneath her shoulder blades, her arms were stretched across her torso still gripping his hair. When the second orgasm overtook her, her body was thrown forward and her scream was silenced by the loss of breath. Her heart was thundering in her ears and her body had become one giant sensitized nerve ending.

At last, Sam released her throbbing core from his mouth, smiling, lips shining with the results of both of her orgasms. She watched through lidded eyes as he licked his lips, "Mmmm, pussy, it's what's for dinner."

Still panting, she managed to whisper, "Fuck me, Sam!"

Sam moved off the floor and gave her naked ass a soft pat, "Don't move."

She didn't know where he was going, but she knew she couldn't move if she tried. She was stuck leaning against the counter in the kitchenette, staring down the stainless steel sink. She heard a rustling, some slamming, and swearing.

"Dean! I'm going to kill you! SONOFABITCH!"


	17. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

While Sam was otherwise occupied, Dean was frozen against the door in Kate's house. His green eyes tracked her as she slowly approached him, "What are you doing here?"

Dean's Adam's apple was working overtime as he stammered out a response, "I…uh…You…you called me, re-remember? I thought…hold on there! Back off!" Dean growled.

Kate stopped a few steps in front of Dean's body and smiled up at him, "Dean, I need you to relax. Take some deep breaths. If you relax, he'll relax. Breathe with me. Come on. In through your nose. Blow slowly out of your mouth. Like this." Kate demonstrated by taking in some slow, steadying breaths.

"Yeah, I don't think so. How am I supposed to friggin' relax with that thing's teeth that close to my misters? HUH? Get that…monster away from me!"

Kate choked back a laugh and patted Roger on the head, "Okay boy. It's okay. Kitchen. Roger, kitchen!" She pointed and the giant canine trotted off to find a treat in the kitchen. Kate stepped back as Dean's body folded over and he caught himself by landing his hands on his knees. His breathing a bit ragged and beads of sweat clearly visible on the back of his neck. Kate rubbed his back as she squatted down, a smirk still threatening to break free, "Are you all right?"

Pushing himself back to a standing position he glared at Kate, "No I'm not friggin' all right! What the hell, Kate? You call me and then, then, then the call drops and the last thing I hear is you screaming. You scared the shit out of me! I get here and that monstrosity nearly takes my head off! What the fuck is… wait… that's Roger?"

At the sound of his name the giant dog reappeared with his two cohorts, Sampson and Delilah, in tow. Kate watched as, what color had creeped backed into Dean's face, left without preamble. He was the color of ash and clammy. Kate hid her smirk by turning away and ordering the dogs back into the kitchen.

"What…the…hell…" Dean was gasping for breath, his fear of dogs breaking free in the form of an anxiety attack.

Kate started rubbing his back again feeling the perspiration break through both his dress shirt and suit coat, "Mrs. Seckla's in the hospital. Her dogs are too large to board at the clinic and besides I've only got one open kennel now that Josie took Gretchen home. I can keep them here as I live alone and I have a big back yard, fenced of course, that they can roam around in. Okay, hon, just breathe through it. You're doing good. I think it's almost run its course now. Dean. Dean? Are you back with me?" She continued to rub his back, the smirk gone replaced with concern.

One last gasp and Dean nodded, resolve in his glassy green eyes, "Yeah," he cleared his throat, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, "Yeah. I had a bad…hel-hounds …dogs…yeah. I'm good. I'm good. So, you're okay, then? I'll just take off." Dean reached behind him for the door knob, but her hand reached it first blocking his grasp.

"Dean, stay. You're not in any shape to drive right now. I'll put the dogs out. I was just about to make something to eat. Eating alone sucks and I think it's been awhile since you've had something home cooked. Tell me I'm wrong." Kate moved well into Dean's personal space and challenged his steely green eyed expression with her own blue eyed stubbornness. She gripped the lapels of his suit coat, stood on tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.

Before he could respond she'd pulled away and was gone into the kitchen. He could hear her shooing the dogs outside, then moving around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards and drawers. Dean scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face and wiped away what he thought, embarrassedly and angrily, tears from the panic attack.

He pushed away from the door and followed her path into the kitchen. The room was bright white and pale blue, Dean closed his eyes as a stab of white hot pain ran through his all ready taxed brain. He gripped the doorjamb and waited for the spell to pass.

Opening his eyes he blinked at the image of the blonde woman at the sink, "Mom?"

At the sound of his voice, Kate turned and smiled, "Hey. You can have a seat in the living room. Turn on the television and put your feet up. I'm not usually this June Clever. I don't have anyone to be June for, ya' know? Dean? Why are you looking at me like that?"

Dean shook his head to clear his vision and watched as the kitchen shimmered and Kate became the woman standing at the sink, rather than…than…yeah, not going there, "Sorry, dizzy spell. Smells good. What's cookin' good lookin'?" Dean joked, half-heartedly.

Kate set the chef's knife in the sink and walked over to Dean. She cupped his face in her hands and made him look at her, "Hey, you don't have to be all tough and intense with me. I know I'm just another port in the storm, I'm not dumb and I'm not naïve. But you can talk to me, Dean. It seems like you need someone to unload on, why not me?"

God her voice was a balm on his soul. It soothed the ache that had been with him ever since he could remember, just being in her presence settled him.

He snorted out a laugh thinking of the gigantic dogs on the other side of that door that rattled him to his core. But this woman, whose intoxicating scent was threatening the tenuous grasp he had on his sanity, tipped the scales well into the non-rattled category.

Dean brushed his thumbs along both sides of her jaw, tipping her face up to his, "I had a pretty bad experience a few years ago with some dogs. You could say it was a living hell," he laughed at his own inside joke, "I thought I had it under control. It's not often I lose it like that. If at all. Sorry if I freaked you out. To be honest, I'm freaking myself out lately. Nothing seems…" Real. He couldn't bring himself to say the last word out loud.

Instead he brought his mouth down on hers out of need and desperation to feel something real. And, well, she was hot, in her black yoga pants and tight white tee-shirt, her long blonde hair plaited down her back.

She responded by wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on tip-toes and sinking into the kiss. Kate opened her mouth to him, moaning as he swept his tongue across her teeth. She pulled away briefly to breathe out, "burning…" to which Dean, who adopted his best Elvis impersonation, responded, "why thank you…thank you very much."

Kate laughed and slapped him in the chest, "No, you big dork, the onions and garlic are burning." She pushed away from the heat of his body but his hand circling her waist and resting on the flat of her stomach slowed her retreat. They moved as one towards the stove as she removed the frying pan from the burner, turning the knob to 'Off'.

Dean nuzzled her neck as he moved his hand up under the soft cotton of her tee shirt. A soft moan escaped her lips encouraging his caresses. With a gentle nudge Dean moved them two steps to the left of the stove so she could rest her hands on the lip of the counter. He continued his soft caresses under her shirt moving up to her breasts. He slid the cups of her bra to the side and palmed an ample breast in each hand.

Kate tilted her head back and rested it on his shoulder, arching her back and thrusting her breasts further into his hands, "Mmmm," she moaned when he rolled her nipples between this thumbs and forefingers.

"Kate," he whispered in her ear, "I want to do something."

She chuckled, "Yeah, thank you Captain Obvious." She pushed her ass back to grind on his hard length, "Mmmmm," she groaned at the feel of his body against hers.

It was his turn to chuckle, "Besides that. Don't worry it's nothing kinky," he laughed again at her moan of displeasure, "Okay, nothing kinky…yet! Trust me?" He shuddered as she pushed her ass harder on his straining cock, his control was waning, but there was something he wanted to do first.

Kate felt a soft tugging on her braid and she smiled as she felt his hands smooth down her golden tresses and then massage the spot on the back of her head where the braid began. He ran his fingers through her hair, feeling the silky waves as they moved effortlessly over his digits. Finally, he settled one hand on the back of her head and with his other he caressed her face and turned her so he could claim her mouth with his again.

"Dean," she moaned into the kiss, nipping at his tongue. His large hands settled on her shoulders and turned her around. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her body into his.

Kate reached between their bodies and gripped his cock through the material of his pants. It was his turn to growl out her name, "Kate."

"Dean, I don't want…" She gasped as he lowered his head and began to tease her tight little buds, which were poking so desperately through her tee shirt, with his mouth.

Fuck, she said something, 'don't'… "Kate," he took a step back, "Sorry, sorry. I…uh…got caught up there. I'll just go." He hung his head heavily, feeling ashamed at pushing an issue. He felt a tug on his belt as he turned to try and leave, a small smirk threatened to break free as he eyed Kate questioningly, "I thought you didn't…" Kate yanked him back to her, placing his hands on her shirt, and lifting her arms above her head.

Without much more encouragement, Dean dispatched her shirt and bra in one motion. He bent his head to her breasts, pushing the orbs together, laving both nipples at once with his tongue, looking up at her, "If this goes too far…"

She cupped his face in her hands, "You need to let a girl finish her thought, officer. I don't want slow and gentle. Don't," she used air quotes around the next words, "'make love' to me. I want you! It's been awhile for me, but… shit… just keep doing THAT!"

She doesn't want him to be gentle? He could manage that, he thought. He released her breasts and knelt before her taking her yoga pants with him to the floor. He looked up at her with a smirk and raised eyebrows, "Commando?"

Kate laughed, "When I do yoga I'm usually naked. Mmmmm…do that again…But with the dogs…. Mmmmmmm…I didn't want to give them any brilliant aaahhhhh…. ideas… wow!"

Dean growled as he swept his tongue through her glistening sex. Her clit was now a hard little pearl that he grazed his teeth across, causing her knees to tremble. She didn't want gentle, her words continued to float through his lust filled mind as he slammed two thick fingers inside her tight channel. He hooked his arm under her leg and stood, his fingers still pistoning in and out of her slick heat. Dean slammed her on the small kitchen island feeling it wobble, "This isn't very stable," he grumbled as he took a taut nipple into his mouth and sucked it roughly.

Kate arched her back into the myriad of sensations he was causing her. When he said the kitchen island wasn't stable all she could manage, "I don't care." She picked her other foot up and braced it on the counter behind Dean. She looked at him through heavily lidded eyes and smiled, "Get naked, now!"

He gave her other nipple a sharp twist and removed his fingers, smiling at her whimper of disappointment. Dean kept his eyes locked on her navy blues as he placed his fingers in his mouth and sucked her juices from them. She sucked in a gasp as she watched him and attempted to snake her hand down her own body to relieve the delicious ache that had settled in her clit. Dean grabbed her hand and placed it above her head, shaking his head no. He made quick work of his removing his clothes and leaving them in a messy heap on the kitchen floor.

"Dean, do you have…I don't have… protection?" She was an independent woman who ran her own business, but asking a guy about condoms made her feel like a shy teenager and made a deep crimson blush creep into her cheeks.

Dean laughed, "Yeah. I'm like a boyscout, always prepared." He winked at her as he bent over to his suit coat and reached for the inside pocket.

She watched as he pulled out a string of condoms, there must have been a dozen or more and Kate couldn't help but laugh, "Pretty confident there."

He laughed again, "Not really. Believe it or not it's been awhile for me, too. This," he jangled the condoms at her, "is a little joke on Sam." Dean ripped off a foil packet and opened it with a flourish of his teeth and waggled his eyebrows at her as he sheathed his impressive throbbing appendage. He approached her and hooked his arms underneath her knees, "Now, give me that pussy."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: There's more sex to come (pun not intended). I can't leave our boys with blue balls can I? Of course not. Again, I want to remind everyone that this is an epiphany style Supernatural, not blood and gore. We are getting to some things and maybe some blood and gore. But like I said, everything in Supernatural happens for a reason. **


	18. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

Ivy watched Sam pace the room, he was mumbling under his breath and raking his fingers through his hair. She was still leaning on the counter in the kitchenette coming down from the orgasm high. Testing her land legs and satisfied with only a mild quiver she walked into Sam's path and put her hands up so his chest ran into her palms.

He seemed momentarily confused as if he'd forgotten she was there and part of the reason he was so pissed, "Ivy. God, Ivy. Shit. I'm sorry. Uh," looking at her gloriously naked body he blushed a little, then gave her a sheepish smile, "Ivy. Maybe you should just get dressed and go. I'm really sorry. Dean and I have to take off in the morning and I shouldn't have…I mean, we shouldn't have…Ivy," he sighed, "put your clothes on, please."

Whatever this tirade was, she was not going to let it deter her from getting laid. She was still horny and her juices were sliding down the insides of her thighs. No way was she going to let some attack of his conscience get in the way of her next orgasm. Besides, she could tell by the impressive bulge behind the fly of his jeans he was in need too and by the look of it, his need may have been greater. Ivy looked up into his green eyes and smiled as she moved her hands down his shirt undoing one button at a time. Sam put a hand over hers slowing her movements, "Ivy, there's a…we don't have… Dean took all the…"

Ivy smirked and cocked an eyebrow at him, "Condoms? The word is condom add an S at the end to make it plural or them or whatever. Well, G. I. Gantor, why don't you reach your extraordinarily long arm of the law over my head and grab that little black purse, the one that looks like a mini-backpack."

Sam was a bit taken aback at her forthrightness, but the zipper on the back of his fly was pressed so hard against his rigid cock he was sure he'd have a natural tattoo in the shape of the zipper. Releasing her hand he stretched over her, as instructed, and hooked his finger in the loopy straps of the purse. She'd managed to unbutton his shirt and have his pants half undone in the time it took for him to decide to grab her purse. He let it dangle on his finger as she used her tongue on his pecs and circled it around his nipple, then sucking it into her mouth.

Sam had a brief out of body experience as how he must have looked with this tiny girl tongue worshipping his body and her purse still hanging daintily off his finger. He cupped the back of her head as she made her way down his abs, licking and nipping a blazing trail of passion that lead all the way to the head of his cock.

Ivy used her teeth on his zipper and hooking her thumbs in the waist of his jeans and jockeys yanked them down to his ankles. As his cock sprang free, Ivy smiled and licked her lips. She looked up into Sam's green eyes as she ran her slick tongue the full length of his engorged cock.

Sam's head kicked back on a sigh of her name, "Ivy." He reached a large hand down and cupped the back of her head, fisting what little hair he could and encouraged her sinful mouth to continue.

Ivy twirled her tongue along the sensitive crest and tasted his unique male musky flavor as it danced along her taste buds. Sam felt her break contact and looked down to see what she was up to. He smiled as he watched her small hands expertly and efficiently open the foil condom wrapper and sheath his cock, "Service with a smile," she said hotly.

Sam barked out a laugh as he bent and scooped her up and tossed her on the bed. She screamed in surprise and delight as she was suddenly airborne and then landing and bouncing on the soft mattress. She barely had time to adjust when Sam's large body covered hers, hooking her knees in his elbows and then sliding his arms underneath her body to grab onto her shoulders. She locked her ankles behind Sam's neck and they both screamed in pleasure as Sam sank his cock balls deep in her hot wet depths in one long thrust.

* * *

><p>Kate's nails were digging into the wood of the kitchen island as Dean assaulted her pussy with his long rough thrusts. Her back was arching off the island wanting him closer, deeper, all over her and inside her.<p>

Dean was watching her, smiling, as he watched her eyes flutter and the soft mewlings that were escaping from her barely open mouth. He bent and took one of her nipples between his teeth and nipped at the tight little bud, which caused her to scream in surprise, but the flush that it brought to her cheeks let him know that she liked it.

The island was rocking with every thrust and just when Kate was going to try and form some coherent words of possibly moving to another platform, Dean bit her nipple. Her body bucked off the island causing the island to finally lose its balance on Dean's next hard thrust.

Suddenly, they were airborne, Kate had the forethought to let go of the island. She held tight to Dean, who was still pistoning inside her fluttering channel, "Hold on!" He yelled, laughing as they came crashing and clattering to the floor.

The island and its contents causing such a cacophony of noise that it caused the dogs to start barking and growling, "Shut up!" Dean and Kate yelled in unison.

Dean, still holding tight to Kate's quivering body, came to land in the doorway between the living room and kitchen. His foot was caught in a Tupperware bowl and he was sure the sugar bowl had spilled in his ass crack, but he didn't care. His only concern was to get Kate to a screaming and mind shattering orgasm.

Dean leaned down and nipped her ear lobe, "What do you need?"

* * *

><p>He railed back as he swore her eyes flashed electric blue then returned to their normal hue.<p>

* * *

><p>Sam stilled his movements as he scrutinized Ivy's appearance in his lusty haze. Must have been a trick of the light, or something, he thought. He was brought back to her small writhing body with the force of her heels on his neck.<p>

"Mmmmm, Sammmmmm," Ivy moaned and tried to raise her hips more trying to pull him deeper as the stirrings of her orgasm started to wind through her.

Sam's balls were drawn up tight to his body and the tingle of his orgasm was settling in the tip of his cock. Ivy's pussy was pulling and sucking his cock deeper and tightening around him and then her pussy detonated around Sam's cock. Her screams of ecstasy filled the room as her body bucked and writhed beneath Sam's.

Her pussy clenching around his cock pushed Sam off the cliff, his hips pistoning in and out of her fluttering channel. His own climax burst free to fill her in a flooding rush. A primal yell torn from his throat as his neck and shoulder muscles strained and bunched while his ass and thigh muscles spasmed and held him deep inside her.

* * *

><p>Kate's head was rolling left and right and her hips lifted to meet Dean's continuous onslaught of her throbbing cunt, "Please," she begged though she wasn't sure what she was begging for.<p>

Dean withdrew completely, "Over on your knees. You don't want gentle, remember?" he growled at Kate's whimper of sudden emptiness.

Kate scrambled onto her hands and knees and wiggled her ass, turning and smiling sexily at him right before he plunged back inside her scalding channel. She threw her head back and screamed at the erotic reinvasion.

Her long blonde hair caressed her ass which Dean gathered in his fist and held her head back at a harsh angle. He gave one of her gorgeous firm orbs a sharp smack and then squeezed the sensitive flesh in his large hand.

She was panting and forming incoherent pleas for release. Kate could feel her juices running down the insides of her thighs and the delicious feeling of orgasm came crashing down on her sweat slick skin. Her muscles locked up tight, paralyzing her in paroxysms of pleasure. Then as if sent into fast forward her body began gyrating and bucking and her feral screams filled the small house. Somewhere in her orgasming brain she thought her neighbors might be concerned and call Officer Tony on her, but when a second wave of pleasure overtook her no other coherent thoughts could be formed even if she tried.

Dean was enthralled with Kate's body as her orgasms washed through her. Her cunt a hot tight fist that held him in its velvet vice like grip, he couldn't hold his impending orgasm back even if he tried. He released her hair and gripped her hips and pounded his cock hard and deep, he reached forward and grabbed her neck and pulled her back on her knees, taking her mouth with his, thrusting his tongue to the beat of his cock. His cock pulsed and released within her, the pure bliss of him coming inside her suddenly suffused his limbs, fingers, and toes. Breaking free of the kiss, Dean yelled her name, "Kaaate! Fuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Climbing to the highest peaks of orgasm and then falling heavily on top of her, panting against her shoulders, "I think I have sugar in my ass."

She started laughing and awkwardly rolled over and wrapped very heavy legs around him, kissing his forehead, "We'll get that taken care of…later, though."

* * *

><p>Sam wrapped his arms around Ivy and held her close to him. It had been a long time since he'd had a warm female body snuggling into him and he had to admit that he didn't hate it.<p>

"Sam?" Ivy's voice was croaky from screaming and Sam couldn't help a sleepy smile as he said, "Yeah?"

"You don't snore do you?" She giggled into his chest as he gave her ass a swat. She threw a leg over his and slipped her arm under his holding him close to her.

He laughed, such a sassy little smart ass. He really did kind of like her.

* * *

><p>Dean and Kate finished a lengthy shower, where he felt the need to use his tongue to wash her swollen folds. When she protested, he merely smirked and said, "I never got to eat."<p>

There was something about this woman that made Dean want to take care of her. He dried her off first, squeezed the water from her long, golden tresses, and tucked her into her large, soft bed. He slid in beside her, not ready to go back to the same crappy motel room he and Sam shared since they were kids, or at least that's how it seemed.

Dean figured he'd just lay here for awhile, wait for her to drift off and then take off. But Kate moved in beside him, her hair tangled in her arm which draped across his chest, he stiffened at first at the intimate contact. He hadn't shared a bed with a woman since Lisa, at least not like this and it felt awkward, at first. He caressed Kate's arm and looked down at her, if her voice was a balm to his soul than being inside her was something on a whole other level for which he had no words.

Kate moved a little so she could pick up his other arm and place it around her shoulders, "I'm not going to bite, well, unless you ask." She kissed his pectoral and snuggled in closer. She caressed his face and felt the furrow in his brow. She propped herself up and looked at him, "You don't have to stay, Dean. I'm a big girl, another port in the storm. It's okay, I understand."

Dean looked into her eyes and something in his head slid into place, he smiled, "Kate, you're more than that. I just… I don't sleep…much. I'll probably just keep you awake. But, I'll hang out for a bit. Make sure nothing weird's gonna happen. Keep you safe and then I'll go. You've got my number, right? My partner and I have to take off in the morning." He squeezed the bridge of his nose in irritation at himself.

Kate smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his lips, "I have your number. Stay as long as you want, Dean." She lay her head down on his chest and was asleep in no time.

It wasn't until he woke up holding her soft warm body close to him did he realize he'd actually slept through the night for the first time in god knew when and hadn't had a nightmare or night terror.


	19. Chapter 18

**A/N Apologies for taking so long in getting this chapter up. I have had a bit of life occurring a bit too often as well as some major technical difficulities! **

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER 18<strong>

After a very long, sexy farewell kiss in Kate's wide open front door, in which Dean opened her bathrobe and ran his hands over every inch of her exposed flesh he could find, he finally headed out to the Impala. He looked back at her house in time to see her flash him from the still open door. She threw her head back in a loud laugh as she watched him smack his head on the side of the car as he was settling in behind the wheel.

He couldn't help the stupid grin on his face as he drove back to the motel to pick up Sam. His stupid grin grew bigger at the sight in front of their motel room door!

Sam and Ivy were wrapped quite comfortably around one another, oblivious to the outside world. Dean did the only thing a big brother like him could do, he laid on the horn!

Ivy broke the embrace at the annoying sound of the Impala's horn blaring. She turned in Sam's arms and glared at Dean as he emerged from car, "How's that alley cat walk of shame treating you?"

Ivy snorted, rolling her eyes, "Dean, aren't you the slut calling your brother slutty?" She turned back and hopped up so Sam had to hold her by her ass. She planted an X-rated kiss on his lips, hopped down, "Call me when you get back." On her way passed Dean she punched him, hard, in the shoulder.

Dean walked over to Sam and they both watched Ivy drive away in her late model VW Bug, "Sammy," Dean clapped him on the shoulder, "I'm proud of you brother. Brother! Hey, how does she know we're brothers?"

Sam laughed and shook his head, "I've got us both packed up and ready to go. I'll explain on the way. Come on, check out's in ten, I don't want to have to pay for an extra day."

Dean raised his eye brows and put a halting hand against Sam's broad shoulder, "Check out? Nah man. We're going to need to come back. We've got a hunt to finish. This is just part of it, side B, man. Keep the room open. I'm feeling sentimental."

Feeling too light to bring the mood down, Sam didn't bother with an argument. He was just happy that they were getting out of Weirdville, USA. Maybe he could do some quick research and find a hunt somewhere else, somewhere where his brother wasn't acting all off kilter. A good old fashioned monster hunt is what they needed, is what Dean needed, not this seizure inducing, Stepford Anon-existent town crap!

Sam slammed their bags in the back seat of the Impala and slid in beside Dean, "Hit it, man."

Dean smirked, "Two times last night and once this mornin'." Dean barked out a laugh and turned up the radio, singing along badly to Cheap Trick's Surrender.

* * *

><p>Several tall figures watched as the Impala pulled out of town. A collective frown crawled its way through the group. A male figure came forward, placing a hand on the female's shoulder, "Are you sure granting them leave is the best course of action?"<p>

She nodded, revealing a sad smile, "Yes, he must discover what has been lost in order to be found. I cannot let him be lost any longer." She squeezed the hand on her shoulder thankful for the support.

Another male stepped forward, "The counsel is not in support of this departure nor of the other departures you have granted of late. You should reconsider…"

The female whipped around and regarded each figure before her, "I grow weary of this discussion. First with our brother, who I see has chosen not to stand with you or with me. Pity. But for the sake of clarity I shall repeat myself. You all are here at my concession. I govern this place. You sought asylum from _me_, if you recall. Do not try to undermine my decisions with this place or the brothers. _Especially not the brothers_. They are under the auspices of my protection and if I even sense that a single one of you has attempted harm against either of them or those they consider family, you will deal with me. You have long underestimated me; another truth I had to demonstrate to our absent brother. I know that is a mistake he will not make again." She turned her back on the group, a rueful smile on her lips. The air crackled and grew thick with the smell of garlic and ozone. A blue light of electricity streaked from the female landing mere inches in front of the collective causing them to scatter like water droplets in a frying pan.

Unconcerned for the group and their shouts of fear and anger, she folded her arms across her chest watching as the red taillights of the Impala faded in the distance, she dropped her head, "The end is near."

* * *

><p>"So, you were rambling and you told her we were brothers. Awesome, Sam. What are you twelve? Nervous around chicks and you start squawking like a little bitch!" Dean slammed his hands on the steering wheel and sent a pissed look at Sam, "What else did you tell her Sam?"<p>

"Dean, relax and shut up! I don't get nervous around chicks, girls, women, whatever! Ivy's just different. I didn't tell her anything. It slipped that we were brothers but I told her we were assigned to be partners on this by mistake. Hey, check this out," Sam had his laptop open scrolling through newspaper articles in upstate New York since that's where they were headed, "Couple of missing teens found on the roadside. They've been missing for five years, but they say they've only been gone a couple of days. Sounds like our kind of thing. Why don't we check it out while we're inventorying the storage unit." He was talking to his computer but chancing glances at Dean out of the corner of his eye.

He watched as Dean shook his head from side to side, "Sam we're all ready on a hunt. We don't need to start another one. Keep that one in mind though when we're done. It's a long ride, what like another four hours or something? Let's go over the details of what we know and don't know."

Sam sighed, he'd given it a shot, he put the article in the favorites file. He reached around to the back seat to grab his bag with this notepad in it when he saw the sign: 'You are now leaving Omer. A town like no other. Come back when you've got a bother.' Sam smirked at the bad rhyme, but when he settled back into the seat he looked over at Dean and back out the windshield and then back at Dean.

"Dean! Jesus, look!" Sam's heart was hammering in his chest, he grabbed the seat back again and looked back at the town they'd just left. He squinted his eyes trying to keep the thought in place.

Dean snapped his head looking at Sam and back at the road, "What? What am I supposed to be seeing? Sam? Sam!"

What the fuck is going on? Sam thought, but said, "You don't see it Dean? You really don't see it?"

"See what, Sam? Damn it, what?"

"Dean, what time was it when we left Omer?"

Dean thought and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Ten. Ten thirty. After breakfast and before lunch…I know that much."

Sam gave him a puzzled look, "Dean, look! It's night! It's. Fucking. Night!"

Dean gave Sam an incredulous look, "No. No. It's overcast … or …something." Dean furrowed his brow and leaned closer to the windshield. He wiped his hand across the glass.

Sam whipped out his cell phone and dialed information, "Uh…yeah, I have…umm…what's the date and time?" Sam swallowed hard and looked over at Dean who was switching from looking at Sam and keeping his eyes on the road. Sam closed his phone on an almost silent snap, he looked at Dean, "What day," his voice was a whisper, he cleared his throat, "What day did we get to Omer, Dean?"

Brow still furrowed, Dean thought, "Wednesday. It's like Friday, now. Yeah it's Friday?" He asked as he really wasn't sure what day it was. Sam's words from an earlier conversation came back to him in a rush, _"Dean how long have we been here?" _Suddenly, Dean didn't want to know what day it really was.

Sam's laugh was a bit hysterical as he said, "Tuesday, Dean… it's fucking Tuesday! We've been in that town for almost a week!" Sam flipped his computer open in a panic and began furiously typing looking, searching for answers to which he had no questions.

Dean's only response was to put his foot on the gas pedal and drive faster.

Tuesday?

Seriously, Tuesday.

How could they have spent an entire week in a town and not know it?

The how's and why's just kept piling up and with each question Dean depressed the gas pedal further, putting distance between them and Omer, him and Kate.

Kate.

Does she know?

Is she a monster?

No, Dean answered himself, she couldn't be. He'd spent the night with her, inside her, beside her, looking in her eyes. He would have seen something, noticed something. Wouldn't he?

Sam continued typing, his head buzzing, ears pounding.

Tuesday.

How could it be Tuesday?

He'd noticed the time thing and brought it up to Dean who poo-poo'd the notion. But, Sam knew there was something up. But, Tuesday?

Sam felt the Impala accelerate and looked over at Dean's face. A resolute expression masked his brother's emotions. Sam knew Dean was in as much turmoil as him. The faster Dean drove the more complex the questions.

Dean was taking them away from Omer, from Kate, from Ivy.

Ivy.

Was she a part of this whole weirdness?

He didn't think so.

No, he didn't want to think so.

Sam had seen her up close and personal, more than once. A smile slipped out as he thought of how up close and personal he saw her, but shook his head to shake the sex thoughts and try to focus on the bigger issue at hand.

Typing almost as fast as Dean was driving was his only saving grace. Dean had to stay in his head as he drove, to focus on the road. Sam was thankful for the distraction of the tapping of the keys and the concentration it took to search for answers.

Answers.

But what were the questions?

Too many questions. He had to narrow his search, but to what? To a specific person? The town? What?

His head started pounding again.

The night stretched before them just like the road, the never-ending road.

The one question that was always on both their minds at least a hundred times a day:

Would there ever be an end to the road?


	20. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

Sam was always impressed with Dean's driving abilities and how he managed to get them places in record time, but this was a new record. He leaned on the door to the storage unit watching Dean unarm the several booby traps, some to stop humans, others to stop non-humans. He looked at his watch and grimaced, a trip that would have taken a normal person almost five hours took his brother four hours and change.

The research Sam had attempted on the trip here turned up absolutely nothing and he felt completely helpless. Watching Dean move through the storage unit he couldn't help but think Dean was feeling the same way, hence his silence for the entire length of the trip. He thought about bringing up another hunt or to stay the night or day or whatever it was now – he was so confused he had to lean out the door and look at the sky, inky black. He checked his watch for the time – 3:19am. He was hoping that was accurate as the panic, at having discovered they'd spent an entire week in a town and not known it, had not abated.

Dean still hadn't spoken words though he'd grunted, grimaced, and glared at every turn. He worked silently unarming all the booby traps while scanning the premises for signs of intruders of all sorts. Once he'd cleared the area and decided they were safe from humans and demons alike he waved Sam in.

Sam walked up beside his brother wanting to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, but thought better of it, instead he spoke, softly, "Dean, what exactly are we looking for here?"

Dean had all ready moved away, stalking the shelves and stacks of artifacts, boxes, and books, looking for something to jump out at him, like a neon side that said:

I AM WHAT YOU'RE LOOKING FOR! I HAVE THE ANSWERS!

Not seeing any such sign, Dean just shrugged his shoulders and continued prowling through the unit. He walked over to the shelf that held the curse boxes, noting one spot was empty except for the layers of dust filling in the area where that particular box had been.

Dean scraped his hands over his face and through his hair, sighing heavily, he threw his arms out to the side and spun in a tight circle, "Okay, we're here. Now what?" He growled out loud to no one in particular.

Sam wiped his thumb and index finger down the corners of his mouth, settling his hands on his hips, "I mean dad didn't exactly put things in any type of order or even inventory this place. Maybe we should make a plan to do that, Dean." Sighing at Dean's look of impatience, Sam nodded, "Okay, let's look for something out of place, I guess. Nobody's been in here right? So, let's see if there's something here that we didn't or wouldn't notice, ya' know , from the last time we were here. Look for something that doesn't fit." Sam was reaching, he knew, but it seemed to placate his brother.

Setting to work in still more silence, Sam started in one corner looking through boxes, pulling out books and flipping through yellowed pages, and pulling tchatches off shelves, inspecting them, some with childhood memories attached and others that Sam was sure had some sort of supernatural attachment.

He could hear Dean over on the other side of the unit bitching under his breath, moving things with all the grace of a drunken elephant in a china shop. Sam thought he'd better go over and give his brother an assist before Dean trashed their childhood in his efforts to find whatever it was they were looking for. Standing awkwardly, his knees cracking, he limped over and saw Dean squatting over a box labeled: Dean's toys.

Dean was digging through the box pulling out items and giving them a once over before discarding the thing back in the box. Sam squatted in front of the box, knees cracking again, he reached in and pulled out some army men, guns, coloring books, nothing that screamed: I'M SPECIAL! At least, not special to Sam.

"Dean, what is all this stuff?"

Dean furrowed his brow at his brother, "Toys."

Sam snorted out a laugh, "Yeah, I can see that. I mean, I don't remember these, well, except the army men, but I had some, too. I don't remember you having most of this stuff. Where'd it come from?"

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and hung his head, "My last birthday before mom…before the fire." Dean's voice grew heavy and his hands gripped the side of the box as if he were using it as a life line to save him from drowning in the nightmare.

Sam swallowed, "Oh." He couldn't manage much more than that simple word. What could he actually say? Sometimes he didn't know what was worse, knowing mom and having her ripped away or never knowing her?

He'd met Mary on more than one occasion but she wasn't his mother at the time. The memories of Mary Winchester that he had were only of her being Dean's mother, which caused some jealousy and frustration for him, that at times he directed towards Dean. He knew it wasn't fair, but, he couldn't help how he felt.

He continued to watch Dean dig through the box, he smirked thinking he looked like a kid digging to the bottom of a cereal box looking for a prize. Sam's knees screaming, he stood and started walking around this end of the unit. The curse boxes were still lined up, dust collecting on them and around them. Books, some of his trophy's from when he was a 'real boy' as Dean had referred to him, and some figurines that he hadn't noticed were pushed haphazardly against the far wall, behind Dean.

He almost booted Dean in the head as he stepped over him to get to the little grouping of ceramic figures. Dean growled at him as he passed, but Sam was focused on the figures.

Dean watched as Sam's boot came within millimeters of his forehead and growled at him to watch the fuck out! He didn't care what Sam was after, he just knew there was something he was supposed to find in this god damn box! Exasperated, Dean up ended the box and dumped the contents on the cement floor, tossed the box aside, plopped his butt on the floor and began sifting through the myriad of toys and books.

Sam was picking up the figures one by one. He couldn't see anything special about any of them. There were about a dozen all together and they were old, sure, chipped, faded, unremarkable.

He heard Dean spill the box and looked around at him as he reached for the last figure in the very back. He smirked at Dean's position on the floor: legs spread wide with a ton of toys between them, just like a kid would do, Sam thought. Sam's hand grasped the figure and the first thing he thought was, it's warm. He felt around for a heating vent of some kind, but the wall was cool to the touch and there was no vent.

Dean started organizing the toys from the books and then piled the books into two neat stacks. Moving to the toys he grouped them each by category: army men, cars, trucks, guns. He put the remote control cars in a separate group from the other cars. He sat up on his knees, groaning at their stiffness, and surveyed his childhood toys, all gifts he'd gotten on his last birthday with mommy…mom. He looked back quickly to see if Sam had heard him think 'mommy' and went back to scanning the piles before him. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

"Dean, look at this," Sam said holding a white statuette in his hand.

Dean stood stiffly, his left knee popping so loud he grimaced at the feel, "What? What is that?" Dean reached his hand out for the figure and looked it over the same as Sam had done, "It's warm. Why is it warm?"

Sam shook his head from side to side, "I don't know, but Dean, I've seen that before."

"This?" Dean looked it over again, "You've seen this before? Where?"

Sam hung his head thinking the last place he wanted to go, "Omer. We've got to go back, Dean."

Dean laughed derisively, "You've been wanting to get out of that place since we pulled in. We're finally out of town after being Twilight Zoned for a whole fucking week and NOW you want to go back? Why? Because of this weird thing that we don't know what it is or what it does? Jesus Christ, I can't keep up with your mood swings!" Dean paced all of two steps throwing his hands behind his head lacing his fingers. Everything in him was screaming to drop this and move on, everything except an image of a woman walking down a hallway with a long blonde braid, a smile that could melt the ice caps and a voice that made his heart leap. Maybe he would go back and get her, get her out of that place. She was a vet she could set up shop anywhere, right?

Fuck.

He closed his eyes and hung his head, he wanted to shut out the world, just make everything go the hell away, make everything stop. When he opened his eyes they landed on the box he'd thrown out of his way. Cocking his head to the side he walked over to it and pulled it roughly off the antique floor lamp it had landed on. He reached inside and pulled out a small black rectangular box. Dean raked a hand over his face and squatted back down on his haunches. He turned the box over and over, staring at it. He closed his eyes against the sting that set up behind them, he looked up at Sam, holding out the box.

Sam reached out and took it looking at it with a curious disinterest and handed it back to Dean, he shrugged his shoulders, "Yeah, it's an old walkie-talkie. So?"

Dean stood, shaking out his legs, grabbing the walkie-talkie back from his brother and shoving it in his coat pocket, "So, it was the last thing mom gave me on my birthday. Before you were born. She came to my room to give them to me, after everyone had gone. She said," he had to clear the tightness in his throat before continuing, "she said that I could use this to talk to her. See, she took the other one. She said she would always keep us safe from the monsters, no matter what, she'd always keep us safe, Sammy."

Dean moved passed Sam and headed for the front of the storage unit. He waited for Sam to duck under the door and started to reset the booby traps. He'd had enough of memory lane. He'd pretty much had enough of everything.

Sam palmed the figure, which was still warm in his hand, and walked a good ten paces behind Dean. He'd seen the tears Dean was unwilling to shed glistening in his eyes when he was talking about the walkie-talkies their mother had given Dean on his fourth birthday. Dean hadn't made it a habit of talking about that birthday so the revelation about the private gift was devastating to Sam. He could only imagine the feelings it evoked in his brother and the amount of weight it would take for Dean to push those emotions down.

Dean slid into the driver's seat of the Impala, gripping the steering wheel, he managed an internal growl of pain and a full on WWE Smackdown of his emotions to pull himself together. But, by the time Sam slid in next to him he was ready to hit the road. No more wishy washy momma's boy moments. He was ready to get on with the hunt and bring this thing to a finish.

Sam looked at Dean knowing he was struggling to keep his shit in a pile. He set the statuette on the dash and pulled his laptop out, waiting for it to boot up he looked at Dean again, "We going or what?"

Sighing heavily, Dean nodded, "Yeah," he leaned forward and turned the radio up wanting to drown out his own thoughts. He drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel as Foreigner's Long Long Way From Home pounded out of the speakers.

Isn't that the truth, Dean thought.


	21. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

**A/N My apologies for the lag in posting. Writer's block is likened to imaginary friends not talking to you. Well, my imaginary friends seem to have taken an extended vacation where talking, sign language, and body language are not permitted! **

* * *

><p>They'd ridden in silence for 90% of the trip back to Omer and Sam was getting antsy. He felt a chasm between him and his brother but it wasn't one of his making, this time, so why this gaping maw was looming between them he had little to no idea.<p>

Sam was tired of staring into his laptop, tired of the silence, tired of being in the god damn car, "Dean, why don't we stop and get something to eat?"

Dean grunted his ascent and pulled into the next generic diner they came across. He'd been trying to work out all the weirdness he and Sam had been dealing with ever since his brilliant idea to go check out the break-ins, which they'd only made it to one of the break-in sites. He knew he should have listened to Sam, now, but to admit that he was wrong, out loud, was just not in his nature. Silence was easier, much, much easier.

The waitress approached their table with a more than bored expression, "Yeah?" She tapped her pencil on the pad giving each man an impatient look.

Sam looked at Dean and waited for his brother to order and when nothing but silence reigned Sam said, "Uh, is it breakfast or lunch? What time is it anyway?"

The waitress popped her hip and flipped her head around and pointed at the clock behind the counter, "Still breakfast. Half past nine, hon."

Sam waited for Dean to rattle off his usual half a menu of an order but after a few seconds of stoic silence, Sam cleared his throat, "Uh, egg white omelet…"

"No egg white omelets here hon, sorry," the waitress sounded less than apologetic.

Pulling a face, Sam said, "Okay, ummm, how about the veggie omelet, orange juice, and wheat toast?" He gave her a speculative look to which she only nodded.

The waitress snapped at Dean, "How 'bout you, hon?"

Dean was rubbing his temples and growled out, "Coffee."

Sam furrowed his brow, "What? No laundry list of fried, smothered, and stacked heart attacks on a plate?"

"Sam…" Dean started.

"Yeah, I know Dean. 'Shut up' or 'Not now' or …"

"I'm sorry," Dean said quietly.

Sam choked on the water he'd been sipping on, "What?"

Dean sat back roughly in the booth, lacing his fingers together, loosely, leaving his hands on the table, "Sorry, Sam. I should have…we shouldn't have…this case…yeah. So, sorry."

A myriad of responses flitted through Sam's head, but what he said was, "Ummm…okay, so, where do we go from here. We have a ton of information, really random information. But, I think we can piece some stuff together."

"Sam, listen," Dean lifted his hands off the table as the waitress brought Sam's food and his coffee. After she'd walked away, Dean continued, "We should just leave it. Didn't you say there was something happening back in New York? Let's go. Let Ka-Omer glow…er…go."

Sam caught the slips, but again, let it go. He knew that Dean was the biggest clue in all this mess, like with the ghost sickness, but forcing his memories or pushing for information from him would be like trying to tell a skyscraper to play hopscotch.

After eating a whole piece of toast, Sam finally replied, "I can't believe I'm about to say this but, we need to go back. Look," he reached down in his bag and pulled out his notebook. Flipping through the pages of randomness, he stopped, "Look. Here. That little girl said something. Where is it? Okay, here we go. That Margot Blankenship said that nobody would find Martin because he was nothing but a scorch mark on the living room floor. Dean, wasn't there a scorch mark on the floor in Johnny's basement? That's a cement floor. How hard or easy is it to scorch a cement floor? For that matter, how hard is it to scorch a hard wood floor without setting a fire? If we investigate these other missing people, I'll bet we'll find more of these scorch marks." Sam watched Dean for any sign of excitement or consciousness, but frowned when he saw that Dean had pulled out that old walkie-talkie and was absently fingering and caressing the thing.

Dean was listening, from afar, as Sam was going on and on about scorch marks and Omer. He couldn't bring himself to give a shit right now. His head hurt, again or still, and the walkie-talkie had stirred so many long buried feelings and memories that he felt like he was falling down a never ending spiral staircase. Vertigo! That's how he felt, like he had a severe case of vertigo.

Feeling eyes on him, Dean looked up, Sam was staring at him with that puppy dog concerned expression that he hated, "What?"

"Have you heard anything I said Dean? Anything at all? I mean you've only been fingering that thing like it's some chick you're trying to get off or something. Dean, where're you at, man?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "I'm good, Sam. Yeah, whatever you want to do, I'm good. I'm good." He picked up his coffee and sipped at the steaming liquid. What the hell is wrong with me? Whatever Sam wants? Snap out of it man, fuck!

Dean watched his own fingers as they stroked the walkie-talkie, they moved over the on/off switch – _click click…click click…_a soft squelch made him eye the thing out of the corner of his eye and then he tilted his head. He heard something…he heard…

He popped his head up and whistled for the waitress, "Hey, I've changed my mind. I want that stuffed French toast, hash browns with peppers and onions, side bacon, umm biscuits and gravy – extra gravy, and eggs! Yeah, eggs, ummm…fried, two and throw them right on top of the hash browns. Thanks, oh, and more coffee, for him, too!" The waitress raised orange penciled in eyebrows and sucked her bottom lip in making a wet, squelchy noise before turning away to place his order.

Sam watched the change in his brother, like the snap of a finger he went from silent and brooding and a little scary to well mouthy and brooding and a lot scary. Sam smirked at him, whatever happened he was glad with reservations, "What happened?"

"What do ya' mean? I thought about what you said," _click click…click click_, "We need to investigate. I'm on board man."

Sam's face had a constant smirk watching his brother wolf down his food. Dean really was something and he by no means did anything half-way.

Sam still had a niggling in his head that wouldn't leave him alone. He knew something still wasn't right but since Dean was 'on board' he wasn't going to push him. He'd let whatever happened just now, happen again. These small epiphanies happened occasionally and Dean would let loose how they came to him, eventually.

Sam noticed he kept that walkie-talkie close and was playing with the on/off switch. The constant _click click…click click_ was starting to get on his nerves.

"Dean!"

Dean's head snapped up, his cheeks were full to bursting with eggs and hash browns, "Mwot?"

"That clicking it's annoying, man. Knock it off."

And as Sam figured, Dean made sure to with a chipmunk grin and snorted so that some potatoes flew out of his mouth and landed squarely on Sam's chin.

"Thanks. That's disgusting." Sam said as he wiped his chin with the small paper napkin.

The waitress was back with the coffee pot and their check. Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair as she saw that Dean had cleaned all his plates and was making a scene of scraping the remnants of syrup and butter off the French toast plate.

He rearranged himself to pull out his wallet and throw some money down when a business card fell out, Kate Alexander, DVM. He picked up the card and stared at it, "Sam, we need to go back!"

Sam looked around the diner as if looking for someone or something that might be listening, "Uh, that's what I've been saying Dean, where've you been?"

"I'm gonna hit the head and then we're gonna head." He slid out of the booth and pointed his index finger on the table, "We need to talk to that chick at Kate's office, Josie. She knows something."

Sam watched Dean's retreating figure then flipped through his notes and didn't see anything compelling about Josie Goodwin. He didn't even remember specifically talking to the girl. He sighed as he laid down the tip and headed out to the Impala to wait for Dean.

Dean zipped up and went over to the sink to wash his hands. His head still hurt like hell, but he was getting used to it, the dull ache with sharp shooting pains. He splashed some water on his face, closing his eyes. He had to hold on to the edge of the sink watching as white and black spots danced behind his eyelids. Bile rose in the back of his throat as saliva puddled in his mouth. He spun and ran for the only stall and had a brief thought of food poisoning as he expelled the contents of his stomach and then passed out next to the toilet.


	22. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

"Dean. Deeeeaan," a familiar female voice was floating through his very comfortable sleep. He didn't want to wake up. He was just so warm and content here in this big, comfy bed. He rolled over, trying to shut out the sound, "Dean Winchester, I need you to wake, there is much we need to discuss."

Dean Winchester? At least mommy wasn't middle naming him, but why the last name?

Dean Winchester…wait! He snapped an eye open and looked around. Unable to focus on his surroundings from this position, sighing heavily, he rolled over on his back and opened both eyes, blinking roughly to bring the world into focus.

The sky was clear blue, a light breeze rustled through unseen trees. He realized the big, comfy bed he'd thought he was sleeping so soundly in was a bed of springy, green, velvety soft grass. He pushed himself up quickly and swung his head around.

He knew where he was, that field of green shit behind Kate's office!

"Dean Winchester," the tall female figure stood over him with a sad smile. She proffered her hand to him to assist him in getting vertical, but Dean scrambled backwards and stumbled awkwardly to his feet.

Dean crouched, hands out before him in a defensive pose, "Where… where am I? Sam! SAM!"

The female figure clasped her hands in front of her and bowed her head, sighing heavily, "I was hoping to make this a conversation to ease your mind, Dean Winchester. But, I see that we must get to the crux of the matter quickly."

Dean was backing up looking behind him looking for Sam, where was he? The last thing he remembered…what was the last thing? He waited for the pain to hit as it normally did when he was trying to remember something, at least lately, but none came.

No pain?

Wait.

He started kicking out his legs, testing his knees, he bent over and touched his toes, he felt great!

He held his hands in front of his eyes, flipping the palms up and back, he balled his hands into fists, and then flexed them again. Dean's hands were trembling as he looked at them again. The knuckles were normal sized, the crooked fingers from being broken innumerable times, were now straight. There was no pain.

The black hole in his gut, the one that had been with him for too many years, was gone. He was calm, except for the rising panic at the realization of where he actually was.

He flipped his head up to the tall figure, his lips trembling, a half disbelieving smile on his face, "No," he shook his head back and forth, "No. I'm not…Sam? Where's Sam?"

The figure smiled sadly at him, "Dean Winchester, in order for you to hear me, I need for you to listen. Do you understand? There is much to be told and much to be understood and much that can be changed. But you must be willing to accept everything I say as truth, a truth you've known deep down but have been unable to reconcile. You must acquiesce, otherwise I cannot continue."

"Tell me where Sam is," Dean growled.

The figure moved closer to Dean and reached a delicate hand to caress his cheek, but lowered her hand as he jerked away, looking panicked, "Dean Winchester…"

"Stop! Just stop calling me that! Dean, my name is Dean," his breath hitched when he said his name, his eyes wide and glassy, "Where's Sammy? Where's my brother?"

The figure swept a long arm across the emerald field causing another scene to appear, one that Dean recognized from when he was in the bathroom at the hospital-light. What was it with him and bathrooms, lately, he thought.

She seemed to float over the green field, her movements were so smooth. Dean watched as she stood before the large pool with the silvery liquid, then turn and sit heavily upon the edge, her head hanging loosely, platinum hair falling forward covering her face. She really seemed sad, Dean thought, no, more than sad, defeated.

Reluctantly, Dean followed her, though his eyes scanned the scenery for any signs of Sam or things that might jump out and attack him. He didn't know how he'd defend himself as his weapons were not with him, where were they, where was he? Where's Sammy? Dean bit back at the sting of tears threatening to spill from behind his tired eyes. Answers, he needed answers and that female thing claimed to have them.

Finally standing before her, he licked his lips and took another look around, fuck, he thought as he scrubbed his hand down his face, "Yeah, yeah, all right. I…uh…I," he threw his hands out and slammed them down to his sides, "acquiesce or whatever."

The figure lifted her head and let the hint of a smile form on her lush red lips. Her electric blue eyes held Dean's gaze for long moments, so long that Dean became uncomfortable and started alternating his weight from foot to foot, hands jammed in his jeans pockets.

Finally, she spoke, "Settle, Dean Wi-Dean. I am not going to harm you. I could have done that any number of times. You are here at my call. No one else would have answered to such an implausible reason to visit this town. This town," she smirked almost angrily, "this town is mine." She licked her lips, lifted her hands to the hood covering her hair and a portion of her face, and removed the hood.

Dean sucked in a breath as he was finally able to take in her countenance. She was stunning; flawless albino white skin, electric blue eyes, waist length platinum hair that flowed even in the still air. Her lips were strawberry-red.

Whatever she was, Dean thought, she was beyond beautiful.

He was struck by something she said, her town? 'No one else would have answered.'

He looked at her, his green eyes shrewd, searching, "Your town? Like…like, what is that movie…Brigadoon?" .

She smiled, "I am familiar with your movies, however, I have not seen many. They are a mystery to me, maybe you could explain why humans who live in a constant state of plight wish to revel in the fictional plight of others? To answer your question, Dean, yes, this is my town. I created it. It's a safe haven, of sorts. I believe some humans might refer to what I've tried to create here as Utopia? But, there's no such thing as Utopia. There must always be conflict for us, all of us, to appreciate peace."

There was something familiar about the way she spoke, but Dean couldn't nail it down, "So this town, what is it? I mean Sam couldn't find any history on it or the population. And if Sam couldn't find anything on it, then there's NOTHING. Which means the town doesn't exist…" His voice trailed off at the end and the words reverberated in his skull bouncing around in his gray matter. Dean gripped his head with the heels of his hands and squeezed, trying to keep the conclusion, that he all ready knew but couldn't admit, from settling and coming into sharper focus.

It just wasn't true. Couldn't be true.

Dean's eyes snapped open and took in the figure again, "The people are real though. How can that be? Sam and I have been running around here for…for…for," how long? How long had they been in town? Never mind that, "I mean I fuc-er-had sex with someone and that was," he laughed, "awesome. I know that Sam _finally_ got laid. Arrrgh, what the FUCK is going on here?" Dean lost his cool façade and began throwing his hands in the air, huffing and puffing and looking for something to hit or shoot, damn no gun.

The figure watched him pace and kick at non-existent rocks, banging his temples with the heels of his hands and screaming to the sky.

She pushed away from the pool and moved in his path. She placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, feeling the heat and frustration roll off him "Dean. You have many questions and you all ready have the answer. You have to accept that. Once you are able to accept the inevitable you are free to move on."

"Who are you?" Dean wasn't ready to accept shit, bullshit, he thought. So, rather than accepting whatever crap this thing was spouting, he wanted to know who and what this thing was. He looked at her again, "What are you?"

"Yes, I knew we would get to that. I've had a time of it keeping my secret from you and your brother, the hunters. You are rather infamous in all mystical circles, you are aware of this? I am glad to see that my safeguards have held fast. Though, some came perilously close to revealing themselves to you. It seems we are not completely immune from human feelings. I, myself, have shed tears over and over again for you, Dean Win-for you Dean. I find most humans to be tiresome creatures. You are an enigma. Your soul shines brighter than the sun. Even now, in this place, your soul outshines everything…everything." She whispered the last word as a tear slid down her pale cheek. She gave him a smile and sighed, "You will know my name as soon as you hear it. Though most historic accounts of my life or existence, as it were, are highly misleading. My name is Hecate and I am the Goddess of the Crossroads."

Hecate. Hecate. Hecate? The name rolled around in his 8th grade memory. Greek mythology, Hecate?

"As in Hecate, Greek god…"

She interrupted him, "Goddess."

"Wait, wait, wait. Did you say Crossroads? Crossroads! Like Crossroads Demon? Demon! You're a demon?" He spat at her taking several steps away and automatically reaching for his gun or knife or any weapon that he usually had strapped to him but he was weaponless.

The air stirred around Hecate, tendrils of blue electricity crackled from the ends of her hair and fingertips, the smell of ozone and a heavy scent of garlic filled Dean's nostrils, "I have been called many things, Dean Winchester, and I have been more than lenient with your disrespect, as my brother learned firsthand, never mistake my kindness for weakness. I am no demon. Demons are parasites and scavengers who took what is rightfully mine!" Her words echoed through the infinite expanse and made Dean's insides vibrate.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Talk about a god complex." The sound of thunder and the crash of lightning striking mere inches in front of Dean caused him to jump back and brought him to attention.

"The Crossroads are hallowed grounds and I was foolish enough to entrust them to…"

"Me," a deep thunderous voice broke in and Dean turned to see a tall male figure with hair as black as a stack of black cats and his smile was just as friendly. His eyes were the same electric blue as Hecate's and as he approached, Dean found himself standing in a defensive posture, in front of Hecate.

"Brother, why have you come? This is a private matter." Hecate stepped closer to Dean, though remaining behind him, accepting his silent offer of protection.

"Look, I've met a bunch of your kind and there's always more than one way to gank a douche! And dude, you're a class A Douche if ever I saw one. Now, whatever this little family spat is, I'm sure we can settle it with minimal man-mallow toasting and you can keep sending each other Christmas cards." Dean reached behind him and pulled Hecate closer to him, not sure why he felt the need to protect a god when he should be thinking of a plan to get out of this mess and destroy them both.

"Hades," she began.

"Hades? The. Hades?" Dean looked at Hecate and she nodded. He was somewhat impressed and shocked.

Hecate smiled, "Yes Dean. You've met quite a few of our brethren over the years and have destroyed a few. My brother here has not been happy with your work, I'm afraid."

"His work? Have you not told him, sister?" His laugh sent chills through Dean, it was a sound that would haunt his dreams, that is when he actually slept. For the first time he was thankful for insomnia.

"Brother, I was on the verge of … He must discover the truth…"

Hades approached Dean with a murderous look, stopping just short of Dean's personal space, he tipped his head to the side and glanced up at Hecate, "He doesn't really know, sister? Shame to burst his bubble," he shifted his expression to Dean and bored those electric blue eyes into Dean's green eyes, "You, my saintly friend and your abomination but quite talented younger brother are dead." He laughed a mirthless laugh as Dean lunged forward to strike at the god with the only weapon he had at his disposal, his fists.


	23. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

The crunch of Dean's fist connecting with flesh and bone was both satisfying and painful.

Painful.

Pain?

"Son of a bitch, Dean! Knock it off. Relax!"

Dean's green eyes snapped open to see his own hands beating the shit out of Sam. Sam's lip was bleeding and there was a purple bruise forming under one of his eyes.

Sam had a hold of Dean's hospital gown trying to hold him still, forcing him back down on the bed, "Dean focus! It's me Sam. Stop. Fucking. Hitting. Me!"

Dean dropped his hands and squeezed his eyes shut and blinked and blinked and blinked some more. He was trying to erase, yet hold on to, the image of the male with the black hair and smarmy smile. But someone else was there too, who?

Searing pain replaced the image and Dean shoved the heal of his palm into his eye, "Fuck. Am I really here, Sammy? Are you really here?" He looked around, "Where is here?"

Sam stood up, releasing Dean's hospital gown and took a step back, "Yeah, I guess. I don't know what you mean, but yeah, we're here," Sam grimaced before telling Dean where they were, "Uh, here is Omer Medical Clinic. It was the closest facility. Dean, what is up with you and passing out in bathrooms? Seriously, dude?"

Dean swung his legs off the bed and stood, he gestured for Sam to step forward. Dean reached up and held on to his younger brother's broad shoulders to steady himself and then landed a hard knee right to Sam's groin.

Sam grunted and fell to the floor, looking up at Dean, "What…urrrgh…fuuuuck…Dean…why?" Sam's hands went between his legs as he rolled on the floor writhing in pain.

Dean shrugged, "Had to make sure…" before he could finish, Sam reached up and punched Dean in his groin, which didn't have the convenience of denim and jockeys for protection. Dean fell to the ground in the same position as Sam, "Asshole… uuughhh…fucking hell!"

Both men were writhing on the floor holding their genitalia, so distracted in their pain they didn't notice a visitor to the room, "Well, what have we here? Isn't this just a sight to make a girl go all squishy in her naughty bits? What the hell have you two been doing?"

Sam looked up to see Ivy standing above him. She was wearing scrubs and a smirk. She squatted down and grabbed Sam under his bicep and assisted him to the armchair and then she assisted Dean back to his bed. After getting Dean settled she stepped back and raised her eyebrows, looking from one brother to the next, "Either one of you want to tell me what just happened here? Sam, your lip is bleeding and you've got a nice shiner underneath that eye and you're holding your dick like it's trying to escape or something. And you," she rounded on Dean, "You've got a gash on your head now, that wasn't there before and you're holding your dick like it's trying to run away with your brother's. So, again, want to tell me what happened?"

"No," both men said in unison.

Ivy sighed, "Men are idiots!" She walked out of the room after placing a perfunctory kiss on Sam's startled lips.

"Okay, Dean, you want to tell me what the dick punch was for?"

Dean groaned, "Hey man, you dick punched me. I kicked you in your nuts. I had to make sure I was really here and that you were really here. Somehow "pinch me" didn't seem to cut it. So, we're back in Brigadoon, eh Sammy?"

Sam grimaced again as he tried to find a comfortable position to sit, "Why do you keep saying that? We are really here, Dean. Like I said, Omer Medical Clinic was the closest facility. They want to send you out for an MRI and CAT Scan. Dean," Sam leaned forward lacing his fingers together, "what's going on man? Talk to me."

Dean leaned his head back in the bed, closing his eyes. The image of a tall man with black hair and blue eyes filled his vision and standing behind the man was a woman with platinum hair and the same blue eyes. Dean snapped his eyes wide, "I don't know, Sam. Hey, where's mom's walkie-talkie?"

Sam rubbed his hands on his pants legs and stood wincing. He shook his legs out and limped over to the closet, "All your stuff's in here." He reached in with a sigh and pulled out the little toy. He turned it over and over looking at it with a scowl before handing it to Dean, "What's so special about that thing?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, "Never said there was anything special about it. It's mine, that's all." Dean gripped the toy in his hand and with his thumb started the incessant _clickclick…clickclick_.

Sam watched Dean with a pensive expression. Dean caught the look and growled, "What?"

"Nothing. I…uh…ran the EMF over that thing…"

"And?" Dean interrupted.

"And nothing. It didn't even give off static electricity. The batteries that were once in the thing had corroded leaving battery acid behind. The thing's garbage Dean."

"It is not," Dean realized he sounded like a petulant child. He scrubbed his hand over his face, "I need to get out of this place. Exit strategy take two, Sam. Help me or don't, but I'm outta here, like now." He slid off the bed, again and staggered over to the closet letting his hospital gown fall open in the back shooting the moon at his brother.

As he was struggling into his clothes, he thought about what Sam had said, 'No EMF.' That was weird, he thought for sure…anyway, he just wanted out now. Two times in this place for head shit was two times higher than he cared to count.

As he slid on his tee shirt another visitor arrived, "No. No. No need to get all gussied up for me." He turned and couldn't hide the broad smile that appeared on his face. He moved unsteadily to the door and grabbed Kate in a fierce embrace, nuzzling her neck and running his hands down her back. Dean pushed her back against the door jamb, pulling his head back he ran his thumbs along her jaw and tilted her head up.

"Hi," he whispered against her lips and brushed a soft kiss that grew steadily urgent and more passionate. Dean ground his hips into hers when he heard a quiet moan escape from her throat.

Sam cleared his throat once, twice, three times before Dean remembered where he was. Regretfully, he pulled away from the embrace and shot Sam a blazing look. He turned back to Kate, "Hi."

She laughed, "Yeah, hi. Hi Sam. How are you?"

Sam smirked, "Apparently not as good as him or you. We were just leaving, I guess."

At that Kate snapped her head back to Dean, lowering her eyes, "What do you mean, leaving?" She settled her hands on her hips and sent Dean a challenging glare.

Dean had turned back to the closet, fidgeting with his over shirt and grabbing his jacket. He raised his eyebrows and turned his head, as he was adjusting his collar, to see Kate's expression, "What? I hate hospitals. There's nothing wrong with me. Let it go."

The doctor and the nurse, with Ivy in tow, entered the room and all three gave Dean the same speculative look as Sam and Kate.

"Mr. Frehley," Dr. Quinn sighed, "once again I have to advise against this. We have not yet discovered the nature of your seizure and now this syncopal episode." Dr. Quinn looked around and realizing he spoke in docterese he cleared his throat, "Fainting spell. I would feel better if you stayed overnight for observation. Reconsider, please."

Dean slammed the closet door shut and stalked back to the bed. He dug around in the rumpled blankets and wrapped his fingers around the walkie-talkie. He jammed the little box in his jacket pocket, taking comfort in its almost non-existent weight. Dean looked up and surveyed the numerous scowls shooting across the room at him.

"If you don't mind my input, Dean's a big boy who can handle himself. It's his choice to leave. Short of a court order proving incompetence, which may not be a bad idea," she smirked, "we legally can't hold him here."

The entire room gaped at Ivy as she uttered her opinion. Dean was particularly flabbergasted and his mouth dropped open. He slammed it shut and scrunched up his face searching for a suitable response.

"Uh, thanks. Thanks Ivy."

"Fine, he wants to leave, fine. But, he's coming to my house," Kate said, brusquely, "I'll keep an eye on him. I am a doctor. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. I'm a vet. But, still." She raised her eyebrows, scanning the room, waiting for a challenge from any of them.

Dean spoke first, "I don't need a nurse maid, Kate. I'm not an invalid or a child."

Sam laughed, looking at Kate as he said, "Yeah and the fact that Roger, Delilah, and Sampson are there has no impact on your decision at all right?"

"Shut up, Sam," Dean growled as he moved across the room. He stopped in front of Dr. Quinn and his assistants holding out his hand, "Gimme the paperwork so I can get the hell out of here."

Sighing heavily the doctor thrust the clipboard into Dean's gut and pointed out the spaces where he needed to sign.

Dean scribbled something that resembled a signature and pushed past the on-lookers, giving a soulful look at Kate, "Thanks Kate. But, I'm used to taking care of myself. Call you later though?"

She nodded her head, biting her bottom lip, "Sure."

Sam followed Dean out, making a blanket statement, "I'll take care of him."

Sliding behind the steering wheel of the Impala, after wandering the parking lot for all of 15 seconds, he reached into his pocket and started playing with the on/off switch again, _clickclick…clickclick_.

Sam slid into the passenger's seat and looked over at Dean, "Okay, enough. Spill. What did you hear? No. Don't give me that look. I saw something at that restaurant. Saw the way you looked at that god damn toy. So, I'm asking again, Dean. What did you hear?"

Dean started the Impala, comforted only briefly by the steady rumble of the engine. He hung his head as he reached for the gear shift, "Mom."


	24. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

Dean pulled up in front of the Caldwell residence. Sam glanced in Dean's direction, raising his eyebrows, "Deja vous, Dean."

"All over again," Dean quipped.

As they exited the car and walked up the drive way to the secret basement door, Sam asked, "So, what are we doing here?"

"Looking for scorch marks, Sam. It's time I get my head out of my… head and start doing some investigating."

"Finally," Sam sighed.

Dean shot Sam a "fuck you" look. He found the secret panel to the basement and was half way down the steps before Sam even made it to the door. Dean saw Johnny sitting at a desk with numerous books open and was scrawling in a notebook. He looked the same, Dean thought.

Johnny looked up from his notebooks, eyes bugging as he stood in a panic, knocked his chair over, "D-d-don't h-hurt me! Take what you want! Don't hurt me!" He threw his hands over his face as Dean strode toward him.

He rolled his eyes at the scared kid, "Dude, I'm not going to hurt you. Put your damn hands down! I was a little out if it the last time we talked. Knock it off! For fuck's sake!" Dean threw his hands out to the side and slammed them into the sides of his thighs.

Sam was laughing as he came up behind Dean. He gave the kid a commiserating look, "Johnny. Hey, man, we just… we're here," he turned to look at Dean, "why are we here?"

Dean sighed, heavily, "Scorch marks, Sam. Keep up! Kid, when you were in the back room there, did you notice anything weird going on out here?"

Johnny lowered his hands slowly, sweat visible on his face, at least Dean was hoping it was sweat and not tears. Johnny shook his head no, slowly at first and then stopped mid-shake and tilted his head to the side, scrunching his forehead, "Well, don't hit me, I just remembered."

"I'm not going to hit you! Remembered what?" Dean bellowed.

Sam smirked and stepped in front of his brother, "Never mind him, Johnny. He's just cranky because he just realized today isn't his birthday. What did you remember, Johnny?"

Dean started scanning the basement floor and walls as Johnny responded, his eyes watching Dean, but his mouth speaking to Sam, "Uh, when I was, ya' know…ummm… like shootin' up. I just thought it was the smack man, I didn't think anything about it, until you just asked, ya' know? Ummm… there was this weird glowy light like coming from this room and I heard Jimmy, my brother, talking, ya' know? But, I just thought he was on the phone or talking to ma', ya' know? When I got done, I came out and Jimmy was gone and there was this pile of junk on the floor. He was always leavin' me to clean up his mess," he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor, "ya' know, when he wasn't makin' a mess of me. Pfft, some big brother he's been. Fucker."

Dean stopped his wandering at the mention of 'pile of junk' and turned to look at Sam. Raised eyebrows met raised eyebrows. Dean swung his head back to Johnny, "'Pile of junk'? Where was this 'pile of junk' and what did you do with it?"

Johnny's panicked look returned and he ran both his hands through his hair, "Ma' would have tanned my hide if I woulda' left that mess, ya' know? I mopped it up. But, there's a black mark on the floor. Over there. I pulled the rug over it so that ma' doesn't have a cow, ya' know? The floor's concrete but she's a neat freak." He watched Sam and Dean stride around the thread bare carpet, circling it like turkey vultures soaring over a rotting animal carcass.

Sam looked at Dean who in turn looked back at Sam, having a silent conversation. They both shrugged their shoulders and squatted down to the rug at the same time. Dean flipped the end back and sure enough, there on the concrete floor was a scorch mark. Whatever had left it had been hot enough to warp the concrete. Dean stood, his knees creaking, and stepped inside the mark, Sam scowled. The mark was large enough to have fit a grown man's two booted feet inside. Looking down, Dean saw a mar in the shape of the mark. Again, he squatted down, this time still inside the mark, and caressed the edge, "See that Sammy. What does that look like to you?"

Sam moved closer and touched the spot that Dean had pointed out, tilting his head, "It looks like the tips of fingers. Two fingers. Like this," Sam held up his forefinger and middle finger in a crumpled version of the number 2, middle finger bent more forward than the forefinger.

Dean looked at his brother and back to the scorch mark, "Crap. Sammy we need to check out those other missing persons and we gotta talk to that Josie chick and that little girl, Margot. Like yesterday! More people are going to go missing if we don't figure this out. Why're you just staring at me? Let's go!" He stood, both knees creaking in protest, he turned and pointed at Johnny, "Don't be makin' any deals. If it sounds too could to be true, then, DUH! GOT ME?" Dean growled.

Johnny's head nodded up and down like a bobble head and he stammered out, "D-do you want the…uh…the glass thingy the drugs came in?"

Dean turned and made to walk back to Johnny when Sam's hand landed on his shoulder keeping him in place, "Johnny, you still have the vial that drug came in? Did you wash it?"

Johnny shook his head this time, "N-no. I never cleaned my rigs, just in case I was out, ya' know? I could scrape and cook the shi-stuff down." Johnny wiped his hands down his jeans and went to the back room and returned in short order with a black velvet ring box.

With a shakey hand he handed it to Sam, Dean smirked, "Awww, Sammy. I think you're engaged."

Sam grimaced out, "Shut up!"

Sam opened the box and there lying in the satin was a small crystal vial. For the most part it was unremarkable save for its size. It was miniscule, barely a quarter of an inch in height. Sam brought the thing up close to his face trying to discern any amount of liquid in the thing.

Dean approached from the side trying to look at the vial, "Man, we're going to need the Hubble telescope for this thing. What the hell, man? Johnny, you shoot this or what?"

Johnny dropped his gaze to the scorch mark on the floor and nodded, "Yeah, Jimmy was always bringin' home stuff for me to try. He'd write down what I said and then clap me on my back and tell me what a good little brother I was." He laughed, "Some big brother he was right? I was his guinea pig. Told me all the time how he'd take care of me and watch out for me, ya' know? He said it was a promise and there was nothing more sacred than a promise between brothers. And the dumb thing is I believed him. The even dumber thing is, I think he believed it, too! Now look where it got him?" Sam and Dean were mortified to see the kid break down in sobs. Not just simple tears falling, but gut wrenching, snot-bubble blowing sobs.

"Uh, Johnny, man, we're outta here. If you, uh, think of anything else er-uh, yeah, here's our numbers." Dean just about threw a fake business card at the poor blubbering kid and the two men beat feet out of the basement.

Dean peeled away from the Caldwell home leaving a layer of rubber on the asphalt and a cloud of white smoke in his wake.

Sam looked at him with a smirk, "You all right, man?"

Dean was drumming his thumbs on the steering wheel, ignoring Sam's sarcasm. Something that kid said had clicked one of his floating brain cogs into place and shifted his brain into high gear. A promise that was made. A promise. He remembered his mother making a promise to him. It was barely a memory, but it was there. She said she'd always keep us safe. She promised.

"SHE! FUCKING! PROMISED!" Dean heard someone yelling and realized it was him. The palm of his hand hurt and was stunned when he looked at his wrist with Sam's large hand wrapped around it. Yanking his hand back, he glared at Sam, "What the hell are you doing?"

"Yeah, I'd like to ask you the same thing, Dean? You were banging your hands on the steering wheel, screaming about a promise. What the fuck, Dean? You've got to tell me what's going on with you. I still think you're a clue. Probably the biggest clue we've got. And by the way you eat, getting bigger by the second!"

"Fuck you," Dean growled.

"Good come back, bro," Sam said lazily.

Silence reigned for the remainder of the ride back to the hotel. Dean slammed the gear shift into Park and sighed, closing his eyes, warring with his own personality.

On the one hand he was a lock box, he'd shove his past down and lock it away only to pull a piece out one at a time for examination at his leisure. On the other hand, he was losing his marbles and needed to talk to his brother. He needed to tell him about the repressed memory that had been floating to the surface. He felt like it was a key to this whole mess.

Sighing heavily, Dean pushed off the steering wheel, ignoring the puppy dog look Sam was giving him. He slammed into the hotel room throwing the keys on the small table, ripped the refrigerator door open, grabbed a beer, and finished more than half the bottle before Sam had sat at the table.

Sam seemed to sense Dean was going to spill and rather than push the issue and making him clam up further, he waited, quietly. He watched his brother finish the beer in record time, dragging another out of the fridge, taking another long pull on the golden liquid.

Dean squeezed the bridge of his nose, sighing, "Look, Sammy, I've been remembering some stuff. Stuff that I'd thought I'd forgotten a long time ago." He reached his hand in his pocket and gripped the little black box, _clickclick…clickclick._

Sam heard that clicking and rolled his eyes, what is it with that stupid walkie-talkie?


	25. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

Dean remained silent, taking long pulls on the beer as Sam watched. After several, long, silent moments, Sam sighed, "Dean, look, man, if you don't want to…"

Dean shook his head, interrupting, "No, I just need a second to, you know, organize my thoughts, or whatever." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, closing his eyes.

Sam waited, wondering what could be so bad that his brother couldn't share with him. They'd shared everything, especially the last few years. There wasn't much they didn't know about each other or their pasts. He wanted to help his brother through this but he had to know what THIS was before he could lend a band-aid to the healing process.

"Sam, I've been dreaming about my birthday, my last birthday, with mom. It was my fourth birthday, mom was huge with you." Dean laughed, "I remember hugging her around the neck and then you, well, you know, her belly. Anyway, after everyone left mom comes up to my room and gives me these walkie-talkies." Dean brought the little black box from his pocket and waved it in Sam's face and then looked at it himself, caressing the front of the toy with a finger. He looked back to Sam, "It was the last thing she gave me. She said," he swallowed hard, forcing tears back, "she said she'd always protect us, Sam, she, uh, she promised. She said that no matter what, I could use this to talk to her if I was scared." Dean started the _clickclick…clickclick_ again, staring at the toy with reverence.

Sam stood slowly and approached Dean, holding his hand out for the toy, "Dean, what if… what if we're not dealing with cursed objects here? What if," pealing the walkie-talkie from Dean's hand, "we're dealing with blessed objects?"

Dean reluctantly released the toy and looked at Sam, a look of disbelief dancing across his handsome features, "Blessed objects? We've never dealt with that, is there any lore on that? I mean there has to be, right?" Dean was suddenly feeling like a load was removed from his shoulders.

Sam smiled and moved back to the table and his laptop. He opened it, tapped a few keys and spun the thing so they both could see what he'd found on blessed objects, "Dean, we use blessed objects all the time." Dean looked at him frowning and Sam smiled as he lifted his hand and smacked his brother on the forehead, "Holy water, Dean, salt, enochian sigils. All those things we use against evil and none of them give off EMF like cursed objects do."

"Wait, wait, wait. Salt isn't an object, angel hieroglyphics aren't objects, Sam!"

"They purify the objects though, Dean. We have to go talk to everyone again. Johnny, Josie, the Blankenship girls, I'll bet they all have a little milk glass statue. We need to look at them closely Dean, I'll bet there's a symbol on each of them marking them as blessed or protected." Sam looked at the walkie-talkie closely, turning it over and over examining it from every angle. He finally removed the battery cover, looking at the cover first then at the small compartment, "Dean, grab me that penlight." He shined the light inside the little compartment, "Dean! Look at this!"

Dean leaned in, eyes squinted, he grabbed the penlight and box from his brother and examined the toy for himself. Scowling he shoved the light and toy back into Sam's chest, causing him to step back, "Sam, it's nothing, it's a circle!"

"Jesus Christ, Dean! You need to read up on symbology! I know it's a circle. The circle is one of the oldest most sacred symbols. It signifies unity and is the ancient symbol for female and or Goddess, Dean! This is a blessed object! What was it that mom always used to say to you?"

Dean looked at him with raised eyebrows, "They're dicks too, Sam. As bad as demons, if not worse. At least with demons you see the ass pounding coming. Sam, don't give me that look. You know what mom used to say to me. FINE! Angels are watching over you! Are you happy?"

Sam smirked, "Yeah, Dean, I am. We're finally getting somewhere. Now, let's go somewhere. I need to show you something." Sam stood and headed to the door, grabbing the door handle, he turned his head to his brother, "Coming, bitch?"

"Hey, that's my line, jerk!"

The both barked out laughs as they headed to the Impala.

* * *

><p>Hecate paced, arms crossed over her chest, scowling, tendrils of electricity crackled around her, scattering leaves and flower petals before her. Hades leaned against the wall of the pavilion, smirking, picking at his finger nails, "Oh would you calm down. I was only having a bit of fun. You're always so serious, sister."<p>

Hecate whipped around at him, "Fun? FUN? You told him he was dead! Why? Why would you do that? Now he'll never trust me!"

Hades shrugged his shoulders, "Why do you care?"

"I care, Hades, because history was changed, but his destiny didn't. I only want to fix what went wrong. Why must you be so cruel?"

"It's a gift." Hades laughed. "Sister, he's only one human. You've fixed enough humans, especially lately, they are nothing in the grand scheme. They will perish while we carry on. You need to sort out your priorities, love."

"Hades, do you not understand? We exist because they exist. Without humans to believe in us, even if it's only a handful, we are no more. Why don't you understand this? Why don't any of you understand?"

"But why this one, sister? Why one of the one's who hunt us?"

She quit her pacing and looked up at her brother of the underworld, keeper of the dead, "Hades, don't you see? These two have made it their life's work to save humanity from evil and, brother, our kind haven't been the most gracious over the centuries, have we? Why must we live in a predator – prey relationship with the humans? We need them for our survival and they need us for their salvation. Dean is a special one. His soul…"

"His soul, his soul, his soul… Marsha…Marsha…Marsha! Surprised sister?" Hades interrupted Hecate's diatribe, giving her a smile that didn't quite make it to his eyes, "I know more about the humans than you might think. I keep up! More than I can say for you, sweet little sister. Your little pet's soul might shine brighter than Apollo's little glowing beach ball, but it's no more pure than mine. He's an empty pit on the inside and no amount of food, mead or wine or the other swill with which he chooses to pollute his body, or feasts of the flesh, will not fill that pit. There is nothing…" Hades stopped speaking and looked at her, a mirthless smile creeped across his face, "You want to fill that pit. That's why," he waved his hands in the air, theatrically, "all this!"

Blue fingers of electricity snaked out from her body, tickling and caressing Hades' face in warning, and she hissed, "Tread lightly. All this, as you call it, is a safe place and was created long before the Winchesters. You are forbidden from contact with them hence forth," she starts to walk away, but turns with a sweet smile, "I am re-taking dominion over my crossroads, your reign of neglect and abuse of my sacred spaces ends, now!"

He laughs, "I didn't want the damn things any way. Good luck getting them back from the parasites, hmmm, I believe the humans call them demons." He laughs at her shocked expression, shrugging his shoulders, "I grew bored with the petty requests, so I…what is the word? Ah, yes, sublet the spaces. For every ten deals the parasites make, I get three. The underworld has a fresh herd of damned and desperate daily." He turned with a smirk and peeked at the silvery liquid in the well, "Seems your itty bitty pretty one is about to disturb your peaceful existence." With a laugh he faded into the scenery.

"HADES! Damn it!" She hurried over to the well and waved her hand over the top of the shimmering liquid. She saw the Winchesters running up the steps of the pavilion, "Damn it!"

* * *

><p>"Sam we just drove around town for 20 minutes and now you bring me to a park," Dean sighed, "I was hoping to go see Kate and get something to eat." This time he laughed and licked his lips, thinking about exactly what he'd like to eat.<p>

Sam snapped his fingers in front of Dean's face, "Earth to Dean. You with me? Don't look at me like that, it's creepy and gross. Dean look at this park. Look at the pavilion. We drove around the town. What do these things all have in common? God, why didn't I see it before?" Sam walked around the inside of the pavilion, moving from post to post, caressing the wood. At each post there was an indentation, a space made for something to sit in.

Dean walked around the pavilion, hands on his hips, finally, he shrugged his shoulders and looked at his brother, "Okay, oh Great Kreskin, thrill me with your brilliance."

Sam smirked, "Dean, circles. Just like in that walkie-talkie of yours. The town is a circle. The park is a circle. The pavilion is a circle. This town is a sacred space. Protected. And I think that whoever or whatever is protecting this place is – is removing the threats to the safety of the people who live here. I don't even know where to go from here. I mean, what are we going to do, gank a force of good because they're taking out the evil?"

Dean was pacing around the pavilion, he squeezed his forehead and swiped his fingers down either side of his mouth, "We need to go talk to that Josie chick and see if the Blankenship girls are still in town. I don't want to deal with Mustang Granny again, though."

They ran down the steps of the pavilion and headed to the Impala, Dean sliding in the driver's seat. He watched as Sam ran into the small bakery, smiling. Yes, food and coffee! Good boy, Dean thought. A staticky crackling made Dean look around the interior of the car. It wasn't the radio, he hadn't started the engine yet. A squelching and then a woman's voice singing 'Hey, Jude'. Dean reached into his coat pocket and felt around for the little black box, his hand shaking. He held the toy up to his face, then his ear, silence. It must have been my imagination, he thought. He started to put the toy back in his pocket when he heard words, loud and clear, that made his heart clench.

"Good night sweety. Angels are watching over you."

Sam settled into the passenger seat with a small bag of pastries and two large coffees, "Here, man, here. Take your coffee. Dean, come on, it's ho-what's wrong with you? What happened?"

Dean's Adam's apple was working overtime and he was clenching his jaw so tightly his cheek muscles were flexing. He had an iron grip on the steering wheel. He slowly turned to look at Sam, "Mom. I heard her again, Sammy. I think I know what we're supposed to do."


	26. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

Gretchen barked at the series of knocks on the door. The pounds sounded part official and part Avon lady.

Josie unwound herself from Del's embrace, a place she'd been ever since the golden light took Gary and Del promised to protect and care for her and Gretchen. How she could have missed that deal breaking personality quirk of Gary's, she didn't know.

Del opened his eyes and scorched her with his piercing blue eyes, "What's up, babe? Oooh, no. Don't cover that fine ass with a robe, come back to bed and let me cover it." He laughed as she feigned exasperation and threw a pillow at him.

"There's someone at the door. Make yourself presentable. After what happened with Gary, I am not answering the door by myself." She wiggled her ass at him as she opened the bedroom door, "Then we can discuss all those things you'd like to do to my ass." She laughed as he all but launched himself out of bed, landing face first on the carpet.

By the time she'd made it to the door, Del was behind her in sweat pants and a t-shirt that hugged his well defined torso. Josie swallowed hard and was lost in the sight of him when another round of knocking startled her out of her dirty reverie. Del smirked, smacked her on the ass, and reached for the door knob.

"Ah, yeah, can we help you?" Del took in the two men at the door, one about his height and looked like a male model. The other one was a giant of a male, if Del ever saw one, and handsome in his own right.

They flashed official looking badges and the model spoke, "Sorry to disturb you folks. Josie, do you remember us?"

She scrunched up her pretty features, then recognition dawned and she nodded at them. Josie opened the door wider, stepping back, tripping on Del's foot, "Sorry babe."

Del laughed, kissing the top of her head, "No worries, babe. Hey, guys, come on in, I guess. I'll make a pot of coffee." Del started for the kitchen, but stopped and pointed at the two men, "You behave yourselves with my girl. You hear?" The two men nodded at Del, then looked at each other with matching looks of: what-the-fuck-was-that-about?

Josie sat on the couch, Gretchen resting her head on Josie's thigh, "How can I help you? Did you find Jimmy?"

Synchronized sitting should be an Olympic event, Josie thought, as she watched both men sit and take identical positions. Each man rested their right ankles on their left knees.

"I'm Dean, remember me from the clinic?" At her nervous nod, he smiled, "Relax, we just have a couple of questions. They might seem a bit out there, but bare with us, there is a method to our madness." Dean chuckled and looked over at Sam who was giving him a rather bored expression.

Sam cleared his throat, but before he could speak Del returned with four mugs of steaming coffee, "Thanks, man," he leaned forward and took a cup from him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Dean scanning the tiny living room, but he looked back to the pretty blonde and addressed her, "Uh, Josie, my partner's right. We need to ask you a couple of questions, they may seem a bit out there, though."

Del sat beside Josie, placing a protective and possessive arm around her, he shrugged, "So, ask. We got nothin' to hide."

Dean stood, wiping his hands on his pants, "Umm, can I use your restroom?"

Josie nodded and pointed, "Down that hall, last door on the right." She turned her attention back to Sam, "Questions?"

Dean heard Sam start to spit and sputter but soon find his rhythm, as he walked out of the living room. He didn't need to use the bathroom, he was on a scouting mission. Sam had a fanciful idea that the statues fit in the grooves of the pavilion, what they actually did, he didn't know and neither did Sam. But, he was willing to go along with his brother's fanciful idea if it meant they could get out of this mess.

Dean found the bathroom easily enough and looked around, definite chick bathroom; pink and purple flowered shit everywhere. Make-up strewn all over the counter, feminine products in full view, but he didn't give a crap about all that, he was looking for something that looked like a statue, with a circle engraved on it somewhere.

He wasn't the most stealthy when it came to looking for knick-knacks, his fingers were large and thick and used to squeezing triggers and sharpening knives. He managed to knock over several perfume bottles, lotion bottles, and other various accoutrements fell behind the counter.

Nothing.

He made sure he flushed the toilet and washed his hands before exiting the bathroom. In the hall he could either go left and rejoin his brother or right to continue his recon.

He chose recon.

He made a right and ended up in Josie and Del's bedroom. The bed was a mess and Dean smiled and nodded, "All right." He looked around and didn't see anything of importance, nothing stood out, or screamed, "Hey, I'm that fucking knick-knack with the circle engraved on my ass! Come and get me, dickhead!"

Biting his top lip and settling his hands on his hips, he walked out of the bedroom. Before getting to the living room, he noticed family pictures on the wall, as well as flowery pictures, and, on the opposite wall, were two knick-knack shelves. Groaning as he looked at them, they were all that white milk glass, fuck!

Sighing, he started grabbing up the knick-knacks, one-by-one, discarding each pretty quickly. Finally, the second shelf yielded the one he was looking for. He picked up a beautifully crafted image of a dog, perhaps a Belgian Shepherd like Gretchen. His hand shook as he turned the figure over in his hand and there on the bottom, a perfect circle. Dean set the thing down and made his way back to the living room, he gave Sam a pointed look as he took his seat again.

After a telepathic conversation with Sam, letting him know that he'd found something, he turned his attention to Del's deep baritone, "Yeah, right there. This weird light came and started asking me questions and then whoosh, Gary was gone. Nothin' left except a scorch mark. There." Del pointed to an area of the carpet and floor that had a black scar.

Sam and Dean looked at the mark and then at each other. They both could see from their vantage points that the scorch mark was a perfect circle, nothing weird to mar the shape.

Both men turned back to Josie and Del, Sam spoke first, "And that was the same light you saw, Josie, in the kennel at the clinic? Did the light speak to you, too?" Sam pointed a pen at Josie who nodded vigorously, a tear leaked from her right eye as she nodded.

"So what did this golden light have to say?" Dean growled at Del.

Del gave Dean a warning glare to watch his tone, before speaking, "It asked me if I'd promise to take care and protect my girl here and her girl, Gretchen," he gave the dog an affectionate pat on the head to which she responded with a soft moan.

Dean looked down, smirking, and nodded, "Okay. Josie, what'd the light say to you?"

She nodded and looked at Del and patted Gretchen on the head, "The same thing. Asked me if I'd promise to take care of Gretchen. She'd been abandoned by her family and I wanted her from the moment I saw her. Doc Alex made us wait for awhile, to be sure the family wouldn't return for her. When they didn't, Doc Alex said it was okay for me to take her. If it hadn't been for her, Gary would have…" She choked back a sob and Del pulled her body closer to his. She curled her legs on the couch and got as close to him as she could, without straddling him in front of an audience.

"Right. Thanks, Josie, Del." Sam stood, extending his hand, shaking Del's hand first, then Josie's.

Dean followed suit, giving them one of his fake business cards with his real cell number on it, "If anything happens or you think of anything else, just give us a holler."

At the Impala, Dean leaned over the roof of the car, "What the hell, man? A golden light? Really?"

Sam laughed, "Come on, man, we've seen weirder crap than this. Besides, I think I know what's going on and who's behind it. Let's just go speak with the little girls. What'd you find?"

Dean slid behind the steering wheel, gunning the engine, "A statue of a dog. Looked like that hell hound in there." Dean glared as he heard Sam laugh, "Shut it. Clown-o-phobia bitch. Anyway, the thing had a circle engraved on the bottom. Where do those kids live? I wanna get this over with, yesterday."

Sam laughed, "Puppy punching jerk!"

Laying down a good layer of rubber as he pulled away from the apartment complex, Dean scowled at his radio as Manfred Mann's Earth Band sang out: Blinded by the light…

They pulled up to the Blankenship home and parked behind a moving van. Grandma Dot was carrying a large box and stopped midway to the van as she saw the Impala pull up. She eyed the car suspiciously. She set the box down and placed her hands on her hips as the two men exited the classic car.

"Well, maybe you boys aren't as fruity as I initially thought. Impala, '67, right? Yeah, got a great back seat, that does." She cackled out a laugh, throwing her head back as she saw the shocked expressions on the two men's faces.

Dean raised his eyebrows and regarded Sam, "You're talking to Mustang Grammy, Sammy. She scares me."

Sam chuckled, "Mrs. Hix, we met at the hospital…"

She waved her hands in the air, "Oh the woman is old so must be feeble and off her rocker. I know who you are young man! What I don't know is what you want!" She stared daggers at both men, daring them to cross the line in the sand.

Sam raised his hands before him in a show of calm, "We'd… uh, we'd like to talk to Margot and Merriam, again. With your permission of course, but without your presence."

She clicked her tongue at him, "Fine. But, whatever those girls say will not be admissible in court and I will NOT let them testify. They have been through too much, especially Getty. You have until I'm done loading the van." Leaning forward, "I work quick, fellas, you'd better, too. Oh, and watch how you treat my girls. I have knives, some sharp and some dull and rusty. Which one do you think I'll use on those microscopic cotton balls, you got swinging between your legs, if you upset my girls?" She picked up the large box, cackling, as she walked past Sam's and Dean's stunned expressions.

Both men reached for their privates and squeezed their knees together, pulling painful faces.


	27. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 26**

They'd sat in many an interrogation room, sat across from some of the meanest and ugliest sonsabitches to ever walk the planet, but sitting at the blonde oak kitchen table across from two little girls had both men nervous and sweating.

Mimi was beyond ecstatic to see the men, specifically Dean, but Getty, whose bruises were still healing, seemed indifferent and suspicious. Upon seeing Dean, Mimi squealed with delight and grabbed his hand in both of her tiny hands and led him into the kitchen, chattering the whole time.

Sam laughed at Dean's horrified expression and followed them into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. He didn't even bother to hide his guffaw as Mimi pushed Dean into a chair and crawled into his lap like she'd done at the hospital.

"Mimi, get down." Getty's voice was still raw and dead, but Mimi just stuck her tongue out at her sister.

"Hey, girls, we need to ask you some questions. Mimi, I think it best if you sit in a chair for that. Then maybe later you can sit with me on the couch. Does that sound like a deal you can live with?" Dean's voice was unnaturally high and his hands couldn't find a place to settle that he felt was appropriate. Mimi nodded and Dean lifted her carefully from his lap and settled her gently in a chair close to him.

Sam continued to chuckle at his brother's awkwardness with the little girl, but kept his eye on the older sister. She was nervous, angry, hurt – emotionally, physically, and mentally. She would protect her little sister with her life. Wait, she did protect her little sister with her life. Jesus, the pattern's been right in our faces the whole time, Sam thought.

Sam did a quick scan of the room, he did suppose it was a kitchen in the strictest sense; sink, a refrigerator from the early part of the 50's, apartment sized stove with only one knob. Most of the cupboard doors were missing and those that were present were barely hanging on by a single hinge. It made Sam very sad to be in in this room, in this house. He could feel the darkness that permeated the walls and floors, it left an oily, crawly feeling on his skin and all he wanted to do was leave and take a very long, very hot shower.

Sam cleared his throat to bring him out of the darkness that started consuming him, "Is everything packed?"

Getty and Dean both gave him matching searing glares, but it's Getty who speaks first, "Everything we're taking, which isn't much. Martin's shi-stuff is staying." She laughs, "Actually, it's being sent to the dump, where it belongs. Maybe his rotting corpse is being pecked at by vultures as we speak. That would serve him right." She suddenly clammed up and began focusing on a scar in the wood of the table top.

Sam and Dean both swallowed hard, making their Adam's apples bounce in unison. Instead of wandering the miniscule shack in search of a statue, the men changed tactic and decided to just ask the girls about any knick-knack's in the house, after all, there couldn't have been much here to begin with, so something like a stark white ceramic statue would stand out.

Dean leaned in next to Mimi, making her giggle, he asked her like it was a secret, "Mimi, did your mom collect anything? Did she have any little glass figures? Maybe of an animal, a dog, or something like that?"

Getty was glaring at her sister, who had both her hands covering her mouth, eyes wide with amusement, her giggles filled the miserable space. She shook her head from side to side and shrugged her thin shoulders.

Getty rolled her eyes and huffed out, "Like she'd know about mommy's pretties. She was just a baby when…" Getty slammed her lips together and started worrying the same scar in the table top.

Dean looked at Sam, who pursed his lips together and raised his eyebrows at Dean, gesturing his head for Dean to get the girl chatting again. Dean pursed his lips and raised his top lip in a snarl and he twitched his head at Sam. They continued on in this vein for several seconds until Dean threw his hands in the air and yelled, "All right!" Both girls jumped, but Mimi hopped out of her chair and ran over to Getty, who wrapped her arms protectively around her baby sister and glared at both men.

Dean put his hands up, palms out, "Sorry. Sorry, girls. We didn't mean to scare you. We just… uh… don't always agree on the best plan. Margot, your mom collected, what did you call them, pretties? Can you get them for us? We'll stay right here. We just need to look at them, for one second. We won't break them…"

"Most of them are all ready broken. When Martin," Margot closed her eyes and swallowed hard, "…they were broken that night." The hand that was caressing her sister's back, ceased and pointed in the living room, "The garbage bag is in there. Garbage pick if you think it's worth it. We never were…" She kissed the top of Mimi's head and watched as both men excused themselves, awkwardly, and made their way to the living room.

Sam gripped Dean's shoulder and halted him, Dean scowled at him, "What?"

"Dean, those girls are damaged. I think worse than us. I really don't want to ask them any more questions. That father of theirs … man, I hope whatever happened to him was ball tearing painful. Let's find what we came for and get the hell out of here."

Dean watched dumbfounded as Sam walked passed him to the living room, isn't that what I said the whole time? Bitch! Dean thought.

The living room was no better off than the kitchen. It was a room of darkness and desolation, even though there was a large picture window facing the street. Maybe it was the blackout curtains that made the place feel so dreary. Sam adjusted his shoulders, no, that wasn't it at all. This whole house was one festering pile of lumber that needed to be burnt to the ground, every last stick burnt to ash.

Dean stopped in the middle of the room and pointed, "Sammy, check this out."

Sam looked where Dean was pointing. A black mark scarred the hardwood floor. A weird oval with what looked like teeth stuck out from what would have been a perfect circle. Sam crinkled his brow, "What is that?"

Dean circled the scorch mark, squatting down, he ran a finger over the anomaly, "Sort of looks like a," he tilted his head, "boot… a… uh…workboot. Doesn't it?" He stood slowly, his knees creaking and protesting.

Sam nodded as Dean shook his legs out, "You got that, man?" He laughed as his brother flipped him off. They both made their way to the black plastic garbage bag, Sam picked it up and upended it on the floor. He smoothed the contents into one layer, his hand stopping on a bloodied telephone cord. He swallowed hard as he picked it up between thumb and forefinger, moving it to the side, "Shit, man. I don't even want to know. My mind can't even go there. There really isn't much here though. Shouldn't take us long to find something or nothing."

Dean glared at the phone cord as Sam moved it out of the pile of rubble. His nostrils flared, "That cocksucker better fucking hope I don't find him, no matter where he is. Sam, this stuff's been smashed to hell. We're not going to find anything in this mess." Dean left Sam to sift through the garbage as he wandered the dank room.

The only piece of furniture in the room was a dilapidated highboy. Dean wandered over to the antique, tucking his hands in his pockets to be sure not to touch the thing. He'd had too much experience with touching a cursed object and having to sort out the deadly consequences.

He noticed the veneers was peeling in some places and completely off, revealing the blonde wood beneath, in others. Various objects were knocked over and lying precariously on the top of the highboy. Dean walked from left to right measuring his steps and keeping his eyes on the flat of the buffet, searching for his intended prey. The clump of hair and dried blood on the corner edge of ancient piece of furniture sent another coil of anger to settle in his stomach, "Son-of-a-bitch!" The longer they were in this house the more he wanted to be out of this house! He turned to Sam, "So? Find anything Joe the Garbage Man?"

Sam didn't bother looking up at him as he continued to sift through the rubble, "That guy was a douche, Dean. Nah, I'm not seeing a thing in this mess. How about you?" He nodded towards the highboy.

Dean looked back at the antique dresser, his eyes automatically zooming in on the physical reminder of Getty's horror. He shook his head, "No. Let's get out of here. Leave these girls alone, Sam. They've been through enough."

Sam nodded and stood, his own knees creaking and protesting, but before he was up all the way he squatted back down, wincing from the ache in his joints. He tilted his head and pointed, "Dean, look under that highboy, there, in the joint where the scroll work is. See it?"

Dean squatted, grunting, and looked where Sam was pointing, "Well, I'll be damned." Dean crawled over to the highboy and reached his hand through the thick curtain of cobwebs for the figure trapped in the scroll work on the back leg of the highboy.

He sat down, his back against the highboy, wiping the cobwebs off the statue, "Check it out, Sammy." He tossed the thing across the room to Sam, who barely looked up in time to snag the ceramic out of the air, before it smashed on the floor.

Sam glared at Dean, "You could've warned me first, man. Christ." Dean smirked and crawled over to where his brother was still sitting. He watched Sam turn the small, ceramic "pretty", as Margot had called it, over in his large hands. Sam shoved the ass end of the thing in his older brother's face, "Circle gets the square."

"Another dog, too. You said you knew who was behind this, Sammy. Spill."

"Time's up, fella's! What the hell are you doin' on the floor?" Gramma Dot came in like the winds of war were at her back. She settled her fists on her ample hips.

Both men groaned as they stood, two sets of knees popping and cracking, and backs straining. The older woman threw her head back and cackled, "You two are a sight. Handsome as all get out on the outside, old and decrepit on the inside. Now, get your handsome asses out of this house, until I can get these girls good and gone."

The men nodded at her and limped to the wide open door. A rhythmic pounding behind them made them both turn around and stare. Mimi was running at them, no, not them, at Dean. She launched herself at his body and he had no other choice but to catch her.

The little girl wrapped thin arms around his neck, "You still smell like sunshine."

Dean held her awkwardly, "Uh… Merriam, I have to go. Thanks for the uh…hug, I guess?"

Mimi shook her head, "I have to tell you something. I have to tell you that, she's waiting for you. You found it and now you can put it right. She's waiting for you, Dean." The little girl kissed his cheek, hopped down from his embrace, and ran back towards the kitchen.


	28. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

Sam's thoughts filled the cockpit of the Impala. Though he hadn't said anything yet, Dean could hear every question, even over the blaring classic rock beating the car speakers into submission.

"I don't know, Sam, so don't ask."

"Don't ask what, Dean? What that little girl meant? Yeah, what did she mean and where in the hell are we going?" Sam looked out the windshield and sighed heavily, he knew. "Dean, we don't have time for this, man."

"Sammy, you need some fun in your life. You're too young for those highlights of gray in that mane you claim is hair."

Dean pulled into the parking lot of the animal clinic and smirked at his brother, "If I'm not back in ten, keep waiting." Dean slammed the door on his brother's next comment.

He sauntered into the clinic and smiled at the girl behind the counter, "Terry, right?"

She smiled politely, "Theresa. Doc Alex is on the phone. Have a seat and… hey! Where do you think you're going?" She stood and chased after Dean's retreating back.

He made it to Kate's office door and gave Theresa a little smirk, "Trust me. I'm a professional." The second time in under 5 minutes he shut a door in someone's face.

Kate was sitting behind her desk, pen in one hand, head in the other. She looked up and her eyes stole his breath, "I've missed you." He circled her desk and took her face in both his hands and kissed her. It was his turn to take her breath away.

She smiled against his lips and groaned as his tongue invaded her mouth. Kate needed her wits about her and his tongue doing all those lascivious things in her mouth was stealing her good sense. She forced herself to pull away, breaking the connection. She lifted her hands and held his face, resting her forehead against his lips, "Dean, I can't catch my breath." She pulled her head back and looked into his green eyes, smiling, "Hi."

He smiled back, "Hi." Dean felt a sudden sadness and panic as he knew why he was here. It was a mystery why he actually headed this direction after leaving the Blankenship homestead. Looking at Kate, he now knew and his heart clenched. Shit!

Kate looked at Dean, worry creased her brow, "Dean, what is it? What's wrong?"

Dean sat on the corner of her desk, "I'm leaving. I…I don't want to. But…Damn!" He hopped off her desk scattering papers on the floor, double damn. He dropped to his knees and started picking them up, frustrated he sat back on his haunches and looked up at her. Is this the her that's waiting for me, Dean thought? Sighing, he rested his head on her legs, inhaling her womanly scent, groaning. There was no time for that now, triple dog damn!

Kate caressed Dean's head. She didn't know what was going on with him, but sensed that he needed this moment of intimacy more than he needed sex, "Dean, you can tell me, whatever it is."

There was something about this woman, he didn't know what, he normally didn't have this connection with any woman, any person, except maybe Sammy, and he wasn't about to lay his head in his brother's lap. Dean sat up and looked at her, memorizing her face, "This is weird, but, uh… will you be here…later?" Just how much later, he wasn't sure.

Kate smiled and nodded, "Of course. Either here or at the house. Dean, I'm not going anywhere. Are you okay?"

Dean smiled sadly, No, "Yeah. I'm freakin' adorable, babe." He waggled his eyebrows at her.

Kate shook her head and smiled, "One of these days you'll tell me, I hope. Now go. Save the world."

As Dean was standing, he noticed the statue, he and Sam had inspected on their first visit, sitting on the shelf behind her. He leaned over Kate's body, pressing her into the back of her chair, to get to the statue. Maybe he'd rubbed up against her a little more than necessary, maybe not. He gave her a sheepish smile as he settled back down on the corner of her desk. He gave the statue another quick inspection, and sure enough, there it was, a circle.

Kate laughed and shook her head at his antics, "You're such a male, I swear. What? You and Sam all ready looked at that."

Dean turned the statue over and showed her the circle on the bottom, "This is what we've been looking for. Damn. I've really got to go now. This sucks, Kate. I'm sorry. Later?"

She smiled at Dean, standing, she moved into his body and pressed herself against him, "As long as it takes, Dean." She kissed him, gently. When she pulled back, Dean scowled. He could have sworn her eyes flashed electric blue, like…no, it was just a trick of the light.

With a heavy heart, he left her sitting behind her desk. The office smelled like lunch time was arriving anyway. It must be Italian day at the diner or something, as the smell of warmed garlic permeated the air.

Dean slammed himself behind the driver's seat and looked at Sam, "Wanna say good bye to Ivy? I think the special at the diner is Italian something. Then, we can talk. I'm done here. Done."

"Nah, she's a big girl. Besides, I think she's in class now or something. I could go for some Italian. What do you mean, 'done'?"

Only a few minutes of silence later and they were pulling into the almost empty parking lot of the diner. They walked in expecting to see spaghetti and meatballs, fettuccini alfredo, and lasagna on the specials board. But, today was meatloaf, open-faced roast beef or turkey sandwich, and pork chop specials.

The men just shrugged their shoulders and took a booth. Sam stiffened a bit as he noticed a bustling little thing heading their way. He so didn't want to see Ivy, she was a bit…much. His body sagged in relief as the waitress came into focus and she wasn't Ivy.

The waitress, Cory – her name tag boasted, snapped her gum, cocked her hip out, "Yeah?"

After they'd both ordered a plate of each of the specials, and Cory looked at them like they were nuts, Sam turned back to Dean, "What? I'm starved. One bad meal every now and again isn't going to kill me. Shut up!"

Dean smirked, "Didn't say a. thing. Dude."

Sam sat back on his side of the booth. He leaned his head back on the top of the booth and looked at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut, "Dean, I know who's behind this. I just don't know how to proceed. This is something different. I mean, we've dealt with their kind before, but not this situation." He raised his head and looked at Dean, who was waiting expectantly. Sam nodded, "Goddess. I've been doing research while you haven't been sleeping. Looks to be..uh… Hecate. Goddess of the…"

"Crossroads," Dean finished for his brother. He closed his eyes and suddenly he was transported to the field, the well, two figures before him. A male, "Hades…so, what we're in Olympus or some such shit?"

"Hecate, not Hades. No, we're not in Olympus, Dean, at least, I don't think. What about Hades?"

Dean sighed, but figured he'd disclose everything he remembered about his time in No Fucking Way Land.

Sam sat quietly and listened while his brother went through each visit to another plane of existence. Shocked didn't even begin to cover the emotions once Dean revealed that Hades blurted that he was dead. No wonder Dean couldn't sleep, fuck. He'd never sleep again if he'd been having those hallucinations or whatever was going on with his brother.

"So, what are we supposed to do, here? They're taking people who are, well, pretty much the dregs of humanity. I'm not going to gank some Goddess because she offed the likes of that piece of dog shit, Blankenship. Nah, Sammy." Cory approached with half a dozen plates balanced precariously on her arms and both men helped distribute them along the small table. With another pop of her pink bubble gum the little brunette was gone.

"Okay," Sam said, "but what about the people in the town? And the town itself? I mean, it's always day here. Time seems to move differently here. Two weeks, Dean. Who knows how long we've been here this time and it's not like us to leave things as they lie, Dean. This is a different situation than we've ever been in. I don't know, man, I just don't know."

Dean had dove head first into the sumptuous food laid out before them, listening between bites. He knew what they needed to do, well, some of it. Some, he needed to do on his own, otherwise, Sam would try and talk him out of it. "We need to talk to her."

"Who? What? Talk? To…Dean, you want to summon a Goddess? You! You who shoots first, second, and third, and then decides to ask questions? Dean, we can't summon her…no…fuck. Dean. Damn it!" After Sam's string of cuss words was expelled from his mouth, he seemed to run out of steam. He threw himself against the back of the booth, scrubbing his face, then slamming his hand down on the table top, making the silverware and plates clank and tinkle. "Summon her, huh? Got a way to gank her in case shit goes sour?"

Dean laughed through a mouthful of mashed potatoes and gravy, spraying the formica table top with little cream colored speckles, "Mope. Vut ool phund fumfin."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, I'll find something all right. The first thing is Emily Post's book on eating etiquette. Fuck man, you sprayed me with potatoes and gravy."

Dean laughed, almost letting loose the load he'd just shoveled into his mouth.

Finished with their meals, Dean threw a wad of cash on the table and followed his brother out to the car. From inside the diner, Eve, Cory, and Mrs. Seckla watched the men drive away. Cory looked up at Eve, "What do you think?"

Eve continued to watch through the window, not looking at the little brunette, "I think you have tables that need bussed."

"No, I mean…they're going to summon her."

"I knew what you meant. We'll have to wait."

Mrs. Seckla nodded, "Waiting is all we can do, little one."

Cory stomped her foot, "But, what if…"

"What if … nothing. We wait until we're called, that is all. Now, you have tables to bus." Eve scolded Cory and watched as she flounced away.

Mrs. Seckla moved closer to Eve, "What do you think?"

Eve sighed, shaking her head, "I don't know. He is different. I would be worried if this was a few years ago, but now… I just don't know."

Mrs. Seckla nodded in understanding, "Roger's food ready?"

Eve released the curtain, smirking at the little old woman. They both moved back into the diner wondering how their existences were going to be affected after the summoning.


	29. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

**Lawrence, Kansas**

**January 25, 1983**

The black 1976 Dodge Warlock rumbled through the small suburban neighborhood. The driver, a man the color of bleached asphalt, scanned each home and snow covered yard. He scowled at the small, dirty piece of paper in his hand. His own handwriting was a mystery to him, what the hell is that number?

_STOP!_

That fucking voice again. Apparently, he'd stared at the paper too long, because when he looked up there was a little blonde boy running in the middle of the street chasing a ball. Why would a kid be out in this weather, playing with a ball?

He slammed on the brakes coming to a stop mere inches from the boy's nose. He leaned out the window, "What the hell are ya' doin' runnin' out in tha' street likat?"

The boy was frozen in panic, much like the old saying, 'a deer caught in the headlights'… this situation was more like a boy caught in a truck's grill.

"Dean! Oh my god, Dean! Are you all right?"

The old man looked up to see a pretty blonde woman, with a very swollen belly, running out in the street to rescue her son. She picked up his frozen little frame and swung around, staring daggers at the gray man, "You should watch where you're going. There are kids all over the place in this neighborhood!"

"What kid wants to play outside in this damn frigid weather? Get that boy inside before he catches his death! You too!"

The pregnant woman stomped off, snow crunching beneath her overlarge boots. Must be the husband's, the man chuckled. He started rolling up his window, when a thought struck him. Rolling the window back down, he yelled, "Hey there little lady! Can you tell me where I might find the Winchester house?"

The woman set the boy down, leaning down telling him something, he scampered off inside the house. The little blonde woman stood on her sidewalk, hands on hips, "I'm Mary Winchester. Who wants to know?"

_GO!_

Yeah, yeah, yeah! I hear ya', the man thought.

Putting the old Dodge in gear, he deftly maneuvered the truck to the driveway. The little woman stomped through the snow covered yard to the driver's side of the truck, "Well?"

Well, isn't this my lucky day, the man thought.

He put his truck in gear, turning off the engine. He took the keys out, jangling them around as he picked a small key out of the dozens of others hanging on the chain. The man leaned over the passenger side of the truck and reached down to the floor. He grunted and groaned as he yanked the floor mat up, tossing it on the seat. He gripped the edge of the carpet and pulled, revealing the black floor beneath. A littler silver keyhole, set off center, was just waiting to be filled by the key in the man's hand. He opened the panel and pulled out a raggedy, brown package, little bigger than a shoe box. Using the back of his hand for balance on the bench seat, he bounced himself back to a normal sitting position. Taking a deep breath, he shoved the package at the woman, "Here."

She scowled at the man, but not reaching out for the package, "What is that and who are you?"

"Name's Elkins. I've been having dreams, about you and a little girl. You got a girl there?" Elkins nodded to Mary's belly.

She shook her head, rubbing a hand over her obvious baby bump, "We're not sure. Elkins? I think you may have known my parents? Would you like to come in…?"

"No. Don't have time for that." Elkins nodded, "Briefly, I knew your folks very briefly. This is for you. Like I said, I been dreamin' about you. You need this. You'll know when the time comes. When you're done… The. Second. You're. Done. Send it straight back to me. Understand me? Say it back to me."

"What is it?" Mary watched as the man scowled at her, "Okay. As soon as I'm done with it, I will send it back to you. Where's the address to send it? Mr. Elkins. Mr. Elkins!" As soon as the words left her mouth, the gray man started the engine and hauled ass out of her driveway. Sighing, she made her way into the house, Dean was at the kitchen table with some cookies. Setting the package on the counter to get her son a glass of milk to go with his cookies, she'd open the package later…

* * *

><p>After hours of research and several laptop reboots, Sam had found something, a few things actually, that would be helpful in the summoning, in case Hecate brought any surprises with her.<p>

Meanwhile, Dean had cloistered himself in the bathroom, while Sam clicked away on his laptop. He knew what he had to do…

_click-click…click-click._

Please let this work, he thought. There was a method to his madness and if Sam knew the extent of his plan…Sam didn't need to know the extent of his plan.

Dean was sitting on the bathroom floor against the door. He'd locked the door, but the lock was one of those chintzy turn the nipple shaped mechanism blocking the tumblers in place pieces of shit. Not much protection against his giant of a brother busting down the door in the middle of… things.

_Click-click…click-click_

_Click-click…click-click_

"Fuck it." Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, taking a deep breath and one last set of: _click-click…click-clicks_ he depressed the transmit button and started speaking, quietly, "Mom…uh…Mary Winchester, are you there?"

He released the transmit button, blowing out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, he folded the small black box between both his hands and held it against his forehead. What the fuck am I doing?

A crackling sound and white noise brought the little black box away from his forehead. He stared at it as if he'd never seen it before. And then…

"Dean…? Is that you?"

Dean swallowed hard, his hands shaking, tears pricked his eyes as he depressed the transmit button, "Mom? How did you know?"

He heard her sobs, half crying and half laughing, "Baby, oh my baby boy. I've been dreaming about a little girl, Dean, a little brunette girl, just a slip of a thing. She said for me to be ready, that I needed to listen to … well, must be you, though that's not what she said. She said, the voice of my child would be calling from a great distance and I needed to listen, no matter what. I'm listening Dean. Talk, I don't think we have much time."

Dean's hand was shaking, his bottom lip trembling, a single tear slid down his whiskered cheek, shaking his head, disbelief and hope warring within. "How…how do I now it's you and not a crocotta? What song did you sing to me?" His voice was gravel over sandpaper.

He heard his mother laugh and his gut and heart clenched, it had been decades, an entire lifetime, since he'd heard that sound. It was music to his soul.

"Dean, I sang…uh…sing Hey, Jude to you, sweety. Before bed I always tell you angels are watching over you and I have yet to tell you to come to me, Dean. Don't forget, I come from a long line of hun-historians. I know many legends and lore on the creepy crawlies from all over the world. My son. My baby boy, I would never do anything to put you in harm's way. I promised to protect you and Sam, always, and I will, for as long as I live and beyond. Dean, please, what do you need?"

"Hunters, mom. You come from a long line of hunters." Dean sighed, he'd almost forgotten that his parents memories were wiped clean by the biggest angel douche of them all, Michael. "Sam and I, we're … uh… hunters, have been for a long time." He heard his mother gasp and could almost hear her shake her head from side to side. This wasn't the life she'd wanted for them, shit, this wasn't the life _he_ wanted for them. Fuck!

"Mom. Mom! Listen. What's the date? It's important. What's the date?"

He heard her calm down a little as she choked out, "November. It's the second. Why?"

Shit! In all the stories told and his memory, he didn't remember a time that the event happened. Damn it! He thought he'd have more time. Shit!

"Mom, listen to me. Don't put Sammy in the nursery. You need to do a kid fake out. Do you have any dolls?"

"Dolls? Dean. I don't understand. Why are you a hunter?"

"Mom, I don't have time to get into all that. We don't have time. Listen to me. Put a doll in Sammy's crib." Dean had gone through a myriad of scenarios, relived the event hundreds, maybe thousands of times, his entire life. It had to be this way. It had to work.

"Why, Dean?"

"A demon is coming, mom. Soon. In a matter of hours. He's going to bleed into Sammy's mouth. Everything's going to change. You have to keep Sammy out of that room." How was she going to kill ol' yellow eyes though?

"Demon? No. I'm not…I don't do that any more. He can't have you. Either of you! I'll protect you. I have a gun!"

Dean sucked in a breath, a gun? No. It can't be. "A gun, mom? What kind of gun?" Dean swallowed hard, please let it be…

"It's old, with spell work on it. I think it's _the_ Colt."

"Holy shit!"

"Don't cuss in front of your mother, Dean!"

Dean couldn't help but laugh at being chastised through time and space. How this was happening, he didn't know. Maybe this time it would be different. God, please let it be different.

"Mom, do you know how to shoot?"

"Of course."

"Good. Here's what you need to do…"


	30. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

Dean emerged from the bathroom, to a smirking Sam, "You all right in there, man? You don't look like you've lost enough weight to have been in there that long. What's up?"

Dean flipped him off, "What'd you find out?"

Sam laughed, "I found out that we've got everything to summon Hecate. We have everything to gank her, too. It's a generic god destroyer, but because we've come across them before, we have a pretty good stock of supplies. We're like the boy scouts we always wanted to be, man. Always prepared."

"You seem cheerful," Dean grunted.

"Dude, we're almost done. We're almost out of this weirdness. You should be excited, too."

Dean waved his hands over the bowl of herbs and various and asundry items that he couldn't identify, "Well, then…let's get to it!"

Sam looked at his brother for a couple of beats then sighed and started moving things off the table. He set the bowl in the middle, grabbing the sheet of paper he'd scribbled the Greek incantation to call Hecate, he started reciting.

Dean was mildly, fuck that, he was impressed with his brother's grasp of languages. Latin was one thing, sure, but Greek? That's a whole other ball game.

Sam finished the words and ignited the herbs in the bowl with a flourish. The men looked around the small hotel room, shrugging their shoulders. Sam was checking his list and incantation when the smell of garlic filled the room. His head snapped up, "Do you smell…?"

"Watch it, Sammy!" Dean grabbed Sam's bicep and yanked him back just as the enigmatic golden light appeared directly behind where Sam had been standing.

Sam and Dean stood to the side, blocking the brightness of the light with their hands, squinting at the table. A warm breeze wafted through the room, enough to make the loose papers rattle, but not enough to stir them from their resting places.

The light dissipated and in its place a female of indescribable beauty, waist-length platinum hair, electric blue eyes, very delicate features on alabaster skin. The female smiled at the two men, "I am Hecate. Dean Winchester, it is good to see you again. This must be your brother, Sam Winchester. I am honored you have called."

"Always polite, dear sister," an oily voice, filled with contrition came from the corner in the interior of the room, leaning against the wall.

Dean leaned around the partition, "Hades."

Sam looked at Dean in disbelief, mouthing the word, Hades?

Dean nodded.

Hades laughed. He was picking his fingernails, leaning against the wall, ankles crossed with the toes of his left foot pointed down.

"I apologize for my brother. He seems to think I need a body guard." Hecate traced her fingers along the edge of the formica table, gazing at Dean from beneath her lashes, "Tell me, why did you summon me?"

"Thought maybe we could talk on my terms, instead of yours. Level the playing field," Dean growled.

"Level the town, if you want my opinion," Hades offered from his place against the wall.

"We don't," Dean and Sam said in unison.

Hecate smiled at the men, "Very endearing. What is it you want of me, Dean Winchester?"

"We want to know what's going on in this town? Why are you taking people and leaving others? And should we let you live?" It was Sam who spoke, rather than Dean.

Electricity crackled and the warm breeze was back, but it wasn't near as friendly as the one that announced Hecate's arrival. Hades had moved from the wall and with him came the blue fingers of electricity and the thick warm breeze, "That's a warning, maggots. Threaten my family again and your tenuous existence will no longer be in question. Understood?"

Sam swallowed hard and nodded at Hades unveiled threat.

"Hades, enough. These boys will not hurt me. You, maybe, but not me. I created this town for those seeking hope. It is protected, as you've discovered. It will be moved once our transaction is complete."

"Moved?" Dean questioned, "What do you mean 'moved'?"

Hecate smiled at him, "You are very handsome. Yes, moved. The pavilion is the center of the town, the steering wheel, if you will. Those who have hope will find it."

"How many residents are dead?" Sam questioned.

"Not near enough," Hades laughed.

Hecate fixed with him with a glare, "There is a mixed population here, I will not lie. How they come here is not my concern, as long as they come. I take those who've broken the most sacred of covenants; the promise to care for a loved one and to protect them above all else. There have been some aberrations that needed discarding. I have the closest thing to a Utopia here and I mean to keep it as such."

"Time moves differently here." It was a statement of fact made by Sam, who was eyeing his bag of goodies. He wanted out of this mess, he wanted the ancient gods gone and for good and the only way to do that was to get to his bag.

Hecate smiled, "Yes." She didn't expound or give details.

"You're the Goddess of the Crossroads?" Dean asked, moving towards her, slowly and carefully.

Hecate smiled again, a bit sadly, "I was. I am taking them back from the parasites." She whipped her head around to Hades, "My brother was to hold dominion over them in my stead, while I built this. He grew bored, it seems, and sublet them to the demons. My beautiful crossroads in the hands of those _things!_"

Hades shrugged, "They make great pets, though."

"So what's your deal with the crossroads? Ten years and you shine your light and bring your victims here?" Dean ask snidely.

Sam furrowed his brow looking at his brother, "Dean, that's not the point, man."

Hecate continued to smile as she approached Dean, "Yes, I thought we would come to this. Since you've ingested the ambrosia you've been a bit scattered. I see your confusion and feel your pain, Dean Winchester. Ambrosia is not to be given to those whose souls are pure."

"Am-ambrosia? Really? How'd…when?" Dean asked disbelievingly.

"The diner. One of my siblings thought to play a prank and you have been suffering the consequences ever since. The ambrosia is meant to heal broken souls, since yours is the purest I've seen in eons, it's affecting you differently. It's…" Hecate shuddered, "It's killing you. If you leave the town again, you will die."

Hades laughed, "I told you you were dead."

Sam launched at the god, not sure what he was going to do to him, but beating him to a bloody pulp sounded good to start.

Hades looked bored and unimpressed as he flicked his wrist and sent Sam flying into the wall. He held him there, even as he spoke, "Barbarians, the lot of you. No wonder our brethren have taken to snacking on your entrails. The liver is my favorite morsel."

"Sam! Let him go! Now! I have…I have a proposition for you, Hecate."

Hades laughed, shaking his head, "No. I like him as art. Maybe I'll turn his bones into a picture frame and use all that lovely hair as paint brushes."

"Release him, Hades, now!" Hecate's voice echoed through the small room, the lights flickered, her platinum locks lifted with the blue fingers of electricity sizzling through the air.

Hades rolled his eyes, "Whatever. I'm bored. Don't come crying to me when they kill you, sister." Hades snapped his fingers and with a crack of thunder he was gone.

Sam slumped to the floor, barely conscious. Dean ran over to him, squatting beside him. He lifted his brother's face in his hands, he leaned in and rested his forehead against Sam's. Sam shook his head from side to side and mumbled, "No…deals…" His eyes rolled in his head as he slumped forward, unconscious.

Dean stood slowly, approaching Hecate, "What are your terms? Ten years and you come calling for my soul? What?"

Hecate closed the distance between herself and Dean, she raised her hand and caressed his face, "The crossroads are corrupted, however, they were created by me, as a sacred place. Much like your churches of today. They are pure. There is no payment. You ask and it shall be done."

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face, frowning, "I promised him, when I took him from the house that night. I made that promise. I've tried to protect him. It's my fault. I couldn't do it. Look at us, our lives. I need to put it right. What do I need to do?"

"I all ready told you, Dean Winchester. Ask."

Dean sat at the small table, he looked over at Sam, scrubbed both hands through his hair, lacing his fingers behind his neck. He looked up at the ceiling, thinking of all the things, all the people he'd lost over the years. Is this selfish? It's not for me though, I can't keep doing this to Sam. I'm going to die anyway, once I leave town.

He sat forward and nodded, "Do it. Hecate, please help me to set it right."

Hecate smiled and nodded, "Of course." She snapped her fingers and transported them …

"Where are we?" Dean asked in a panic. "Where's Sam?"

"Sam's fine. He's in a holding pattern. If this doesn't turn out the way you intended, then we go back to the hotel. You can choose to remain in the town or leave. It's your choice. Just as this is your choice. This is where you felt it all went wrong. I must agree. It wasn't supposed to happen this way."

Dean took in his surroundings and swallowed the lump in his throat, "Here? This…this. How am I going to stop this?"

"And the righteous man shall stop it…I believe those were the words used by the angel. Once you acquiesce, Dean Winchester, the you from this time will be installed in the you from that time. You will have all the memories from this moment forward. You can choose the same path or," she touched his pocket holding the little black box, "see what a new destiny brings."


	31. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

Dean wandered through Stull Cemetery, taking in the paused scene. His body lying prone on the hood of the Impala. His brother possessed by Lucifer, pummeling the shit out of 2005-Dean's face.

"How do I know this isn't some trick? Like the djinn or a demon deal made to look…what about all the people Sam and I have saved? I can't give up a life of shit knowing that I let others die because of my selfishness."

Hecate approached him from behind, taking in the scene as well, "You fulfilled your destiny, Dean. You and your brother should have been rewarded rather than suffer more punishment. If you proceed, the destiny tied to you, will move to another set of hunters."

Dean continued to wander through the cemetery, he stopped before his youngest brother, Adam. He swiped his thumb and forefinger down the corners of his mouth and pointed a finger at Adam, "What about him?"

Hecate nodded, "Adam. Adam is special. He is always meant to be born. Though his destiny is a bit more convoluted and is yet unclear to me. He will be born, however, not of your father."

Dean nodded, "Okay, will I remember? Any of this?"

This time Hecate shook her head from side to side, "No. Your life will be as any other child's, as long as your mother fulfills her part. There is still no guarantee. If she fails, Dean, we will return to the hotel. I must warn you, Dean Winchester, you _will_ remember this if she fails."

Dean regarded the goddess, she was very beautiful and very sad, "Why do you look like someone ate your best friend?"

Hecate smiled sadly, "I like you, Dean Winchester. You have touched a part of me I did not know existed. I have taken very few lovers over the eons and I have loved none of them. I think, after watching you for so long, that I have fallen in love with you. If you choose this path, you will not remember me and we will never meet. And I shall be sad for eternity."

Out of all the things in his life that he'd seen and heard, that was the most surprising and shocking. He couldn't have spoken even if she zapped him in the nuts with that electricity she liked to conjure so often. Something compelled him to move towards her. He stalked her like a predator after his prey. When he stepped into her personal space, he looked down at her licking his lips. He reached his hands forward cupped her small, delicate face in his hands. He leaned down and placed a feather light kiss on her lips. He pulled away and brushed a strand of her silky soft hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear, "I acquiesce, Hecate."

She gasped at his words and with a slight nod, she was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>Stull Cemetery<strong>

**2005**

Dean watched helplessly as Bobby's neck was broken with a simple twist of Sam's wrist being controlled by Lucifer. He watched as his whole world, the last of his family was destroyed, and yet he remained the punching bag for Lucifer's rage.

Dean slipped his hand inside his coat pocket and pushed the transmit button on the walkie-talkie. All he could think was, mom, please, do it, do it now. But what he said was, "Sam, its okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you. I'm not gonna leave you."

Dean closed his swollen eyes, listening for something on the other end of the walkie-talkie, in another time, from another life. Please, mom, please. He realized that the next punch didn't come. He looked at his brother who seemed lost in thought.

Sam said, "It's okay, Dean. It's gonna be okay. I've got him." Sam threw the horsemen's rings on the ground and recited the incantation to open the gate to Lucifer's cage.

Dean watched as Sam closed his eyes and held his arms out straight, ready to fall into the gaping hole in the cemetery; Michael in Adam's skin, trying to stop him.

* * *

><p><strong>Lawrence, Kansas<strong>

**November 2, 1983**

Mary sat on the side of the bed, gripping the walkie-talkie, tears streaming down her face, "No. No. I can't let this happen. Monsters will NOT take my boys! Mommy will keep you safe. I promise. I promise."

She slid off the bed, reaching behind her, checking that the small bundle was sleeping soundly. Satisfied with the tiny snores, she reached under her pillow for the weapon. Mary looked at it through teary eyes and biting her lip she padded out of her room, careful not to make any noise.

Moving across the hall with the weapon raised, held firmly in her small hands, she side-stepped into baby Sam's nursery. There he was standing over Sam's crib just like grown-Dean said he would be. The demon turned his head, eyes glowing a putrid yellow.

* * *

><p><strong>Stull Cemetery<strong>

**2005**

Dean watched as Sam and Michael moved closer to the gaping hole. Closing his eyes, again, "Mom, please. Hurry. Shoot. Shoot!"

* * *

><p><strong>Lawrence, Kansas<strong>

**1983**

Mary leveled the Colt at the demon's head…

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!


	32. Epilogue

**A/N: So here we are at the end, finally. It's not perfect, but it's complete. I hope you enjoyed it. There are loose ends, I am aware. But, much like life, not everything can be tied up in a neat little package. Thank you for reading.**

* * *

><p><strong>EPILOGUE<strong>

If you had a chance to change your history, your destiny, if you will, would you? Whether you're an accountant, a jockey, or a stripper, knowing all the things you know now would you change your past?

What exactly would you want to change?

Knowing what you know now…would you change it?

There in lies the most important question for Dean Winchester. He'd all ready seen a life without demons with the help of the Djinn venom, but he remembered the hunting life, and he saw all the people he and Sam saved, dead. Dean all ready knew the consequences of changing history and yet, when the opportunity knocked, he held the door wide open.

Why?

Family.

Like Chuck said, "Isn't that the whole point?"

This time though, this time, things would be different, right?

* * *

><p><strong>Lawrence, Kansas<strong>

**Present Day**

"Dean. Dean. Hurry up!" Sam yelled from the front porch.

Dean slammed the driver's side door of the Impala and yelled over the hood, "Keep your shorts on!"

He ran to the passenger's side door and opened it to help his very pregnant wife, Kate, up and out, he gave her swollen belly an affectionate pat, "How's the munchkin?"

Kate turned her blue eyes to him, "I gotta pee, again, if that tells you anything."

Dean laughed and after making sure her footing was secure on the sidewalk, he slammed the car door. He moved to the back door opening it, he leaned his head in and pulled a goofy face at his 3 year old son, Daniel, in his car seat, "How ya' doin' sport?"

"Want out, daddy."

Dean smiled, "Yeah, yeah." He hoisted the boy out and set him in the grass of the front yard of the house in which he and his younger brother grew up.

He watched as Daniel mounted the steps and ran inside just like he owned the place. Dean rubbed his hand through his hair and shook off the strange feeling he seemed to always get when he came for the family Sunday dinner.

Sam stood at the top of the stairs, holding his own 3 year old son in his arms. Seth was struggling in his daddy's arms wanting to get down and play with his cousin, "Down daddy, down!"

Sam settled the boy on the porch and turned and watched as his son ran in the house behind Daniel.

The two little ones were only days apart in age and it looked like, Kate – Dean's wife, and Jessica – Sam's wife, were going to be having their second children within days of each other as well.

Dean mounted the steps and the two brothers embraced each other, "Great day for a party, eh, Sammy?"

"When are you going to quit calling me that, Dean?"

Dean laughed, "Never, Sammy."

They walked through the house to the back door. Dean and Sam opened the screen door in time to see Daniel and Seth tackle their grandfather.

"Popop!" the boys yelled in unison. Daniel tackled his popop's right leg, while Seth attacked the left. They both wrapped their chubby little arms and legs around popop's legs, waiting for the Frankenstein walk.

John Winchester grinned broadly, there was nothing he loved more than his two grandsons, "You two little monkeys," he ruffled each of their hair and started walking around the backyard like Frankenstein, much to the delight of the boys.

Sam and Dean approached Frankenpop and embraced him in turn, "Dad, having trouble with the grill again?" Dean said after releasing his dad from an unusually firm hug.

"As usual," Mary said holding two trays of snacks, sticking her neck out for Sam and Dean to kiss each of her cheeks. Mary looked over each of her shoulders as though looking for something or someone, brow knitted in worry. She stared out across the yard to the line of trees bordering the street, eyes squinted to bring something invisible into focus, but like most invisible things, it stayed invisible.

"Mom, let me take those," Sam relieved his mother of her burden, startling her back to the present. He set the trays on the picnic table next to his very pretty, very pregnant wife, Jessica.

He leaned in and kissed his wife's cheek and gave her swollen belly a pat, "You doin' okay, babe?"

She looked up at him, her brown eyes rolled, "Yeah, fantastic. I gotta pee, again." Sam laughed and helped her up just as Kate was settling down next to her.

Kate smiled as she watched Jessica waddle off to the house. She looked around the backyard to her family and rubbed her belly, feeling little Sean kick and tumble inside, "Hey, little man, take it easy. You know I'll protect you and your brother, no matter what." The baby settled down, but Kate felt tense. She looked out across the street, the same place where Mary had been looking. Her eyes flashed electric blue, as she hissed, "You will not have them, ever."

"Mmmm…garlic, can you smell it?" Jessica asked as she settled back down next to Kate.

A warm summer breeze stirred their hair, carrying the lingering scent of garlic, Kate smiled, "Yes, I love it, too!" She continued to stare across the way, trying to see…

The sun was shining, the sky was a blue that writer's dreamt of describing but could never get it quite right. Neighbor's mowing their yards, kids riding bikes to places yet to be discovered, and the Winchester clan was enjoying some family quality time.

Leaning up against a tree on the bustling little street, a man watched the Winchester's get together. He watched, smiling a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat's smile falter. The man took a last drag of his cigarette and flicked it into the middle of the street. He turned away from the festivities, exhaled smoke billowing around him, humming a tune that sounded eerily like Time Is On My Side, the man continued to smile as his eyes glowed a putrid yellow.


End file.
